


salio (to the end)

by BekasStrife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ... literally, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BEAR WITH ME PEEPS, Bobby Singer is Castiel's Parent, Bobby Singer is Dean Winchester's Parent, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Future Mpreg, Hurt/Comfort, Later in the story, M/M, Mating, Omega Dean Winchester, Omega Verse, Parental Bobby Singer, Rimming, Scenting, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekasStrife/pseuds/BekasStrife
Summary: [Post!S5 Canon Divergence / Alternate World + Omegaverse]Salio (Latin): To leap, to jump forward.After Sam jumped into the cage, Dean finds both Bobby and Castiel beside him at the cemetery: unharmed. Alive.Human.As they try to figure out who or what took Cas's grace and for what, Dean struggles to move forward and fulfill his promise to his brother, while Castiel adapts to what being human means, in all the ways that matter.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel
Comments: 103
Kudos: 133





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> This work takes place in one of those alternate universes we know about.  
> Omega verse is a thing, Dean is still emotionally constipated, Chuck is a dick.
> 
> This fic is unbeta'd and english is not my first language; yet, I did my best.

He didn’t know how long he’d been kneeling on the dirt, now.

Minutes, hours? Dean let out a noisy exhale.

His mind was fuzzy.

He knew this:

  * Sam was gone - Lucifer, Michael and, consequently, Adam with him. To _hell_.
  * Bobby was dead.
  * Cas was dead.



He was all out of family.

On top of that, he had bruises on bruises and was pretty sure his nose was broken, too.

“—are ya listenin’ to me? _Dean_?”

Like a hotwire, his mind snapped to attention the moment a large hand gripped his shoulder and shook. Tho injured, Dean twisted and bared his teeth in a broken snarl, scrambling for his gun before he was hit by an achingly familiar scent: motor oil, pine and whiskey, sour with worry and apprehension. Bobby stood before him, brow furrowed and not a scratch in him. No broken neck, no dead eyes, _alive_ — “Bobby?” Dean faltered, eyeing the other man for any hint, any answer to what the hell was going on.

“Yeah, I don’t believe it either.” Bobby snorted humorlessly, backing away, and scratching his head beneath his old ball cap. Looking around, he glanced between the horsemen’s rings and the undisturbed ground where the entrance to the cage had just been. “One moment I’m standin’ there with that angel of yours, the next I’m pulling my ass off the ground and seeing _you_.” Giving Dean a searching look, Bobby’s scent soured further. “… He got you good, boy.”

Dean chose to ignore the remark and struggled to his feet, mind still reeling. He gave the air another pointed sniff. No doubt about it, the scent was one-hundred percent _Bobby’s_. No hint of sulfur or ozone, as it was usual with demonic or angelic possession. Still--- Bobby was _dead_. Had been. Still is? _Shit_. Nothing made sense and the pain was only making it worse. The only way Bobby could have been brought back was if any divine prick had intervened, but God was AWOL, no other angel cared enough, and Cas was—

Cas was kneeling on the dirt, hidden from view a couple feet behind Bobby.

 _Whole_.

Some of the tension bled from Dean’s shoulders. If Cas was somehow alive, then he had to have been the one to bring Bobby back. “Cas?” As he took an unsteady step forward, Dean batted Bobby’s steady hands away. He could still walk, damn it.

His face was broken, not his legs.

Giving no indication he had heard him, Cas had yet to move, face turned towards the sky. His eyes were closed, his face slack; he looked incisive, like he was trying to listen for a faraway sound no one else could reach.

Dean faltered once he got a closer look. Castiel looked pained.

Before he could try to call again, Cas opened his eyes and looked directly at him. He seemed to hesitate as they just stared at each other. “You’re hurt.” He said at last, heavy with something.

“What gave it away?” Spitting a mouthful of blood to the floor, Dean offered Cas a hand up. “Was it the shiner or the broken nose?”

Castiel ignored the hand and stood on his own, rigid. Dean wanted to scoff and nearly did, only swallowing it down when Cas looked back at him. As it was usual with the angel, the intensity with which Cas’ gaze pinned him left him to clench his jaw and stare right back. “Are _you_ hurt?” Dean demanded eventually when Cas remained silent. “I mean, you freaking _exploded_ , man.” He grimaced, the image burned into his retinas and, quite possibly, still smeared on his clothes.

Cas’s brow furrowed further, and Dean was suddenly hit with a sharp smell, bitter and unpleasant, but still remarkably familiar despite its intensity.

While angels did not present, their vessels did. As such, they had an inimitable scent, almost like their own unique grace.

Where Anna smelled of wildfires and dandelions, Cas smelled of rain and honey. However, and as divine creatures, they both had smelled deeply of ozone. It nearly overwhelmed all the other scents. Now, though, Castiel smelled remarkably… ordinary.

In distress but _ordinary_.

Lost in his musings, Dean only saw Cas’s fingers as they hit his forehead before he gave a jerk. Once more, pain crossed Castiel’s face and Dean, for a second, might have thought it was his reaction that caused it, but Cas wasn’t even looking at him, but _through_ him.

His smell soured further, and Dean did take a step back then, scrunching up his nose the best he could with the facture. “What?” He barked at last, eyeing the still outstretched hand and fingers.

“I cannot heal you.” Castiel said at last, dropping his hand. He suddenly looked older, at odds with himself as he clenched his hands into fists.

“Why not?” Bobby asked, somewhere near Dean’s right shoulder. He had almost forgotten he was there.

“I—” Castiel struggled with the words, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“My grace is gone.”

It’s hours later, as they gather around Bobby’s living room, that they reach some conclusions.

 _One_ , Cas did not bring Bobby back because, _two_ , he had been brought back himself by means unknown. Means that, _three_ , no one knew about and brought him back without his mojo.

“Couldn’t another angel have done it?” Dean asked, wincing as Bobby dabbed antiseptic on his cheek. His nose had been reset, so at least now he could breathe right. “I know that there aren’t many of those that like us enough for that but,” He shrugged. “Maybe Gabriel did it.”

Cas frowned, stiffly sitting in one of the armchairs. _Guess you can take the grace out of the angel but not the stick up his ass_ , Dean silently mused. “Maybe so.” The former angel conceded after a moment. “ _Although_ , nothing Gabriel has ever done has been without consequence. He would have to gain something from our resurrection, and I can’t think of what he would attain from raising Bobby from the dead.”

“ _Gee_ , thanks.”

Castiel honest to god _squirmed_ a little under the bearded man’s scowl. “I meant no offense.” He was quick to say. “Just stating facts. As it stands, they’re all we have.” Standing and quickly crossing the room, Cas grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the minibar and handed it over to Dean. “Humans seem to use it as an analgesic, though I doubt its efficacy.” He deadpanned at the raised eyebrow he got in return.

“Yeah well, it’s at the very least distracting.” Dean grouched back, taking the bottle, and unscrewing the cap. “Thanks.”

Nodding, Castiel went back to the armchair but didn’t sit. Instead, he flexed his hands, back to the others. He was fidgety, trying to cope with the knowledge that he could no longer heal or do anything else on a whim. “It’s also strange that he would resurrect me without my grace.” A dark look passed through his eyes, scent souring as he turned. “I find it very difficult that he would be able to do that.”

“Why would it be difficult?” Dean asked, taking a long chug out of the bottle as Bobby drew back.

Castiel flexed his hands again, restless. “An angel’s grace could, in simplistic terms, be compared to a human’s soul. It is unique and a part of us. I died with it. In fact, I was atomized.” He grouched, mouth a thin line. “For Gabriel to bring me back, he would have to reverse it and it would be impossible for him to do so without putting my grace back together. He doesn’t have the power.”

“Gabriel; ain’t that an archangel? High ranking angel and all that?” Bobby frowned, pausing his riffling through the first aid kit. “What could be more powerful than that and have a stake on our lives?”

“God.”

Silence filled the room as everyone digested Castiel’s words. Or, at least until Dean snorted and took another shot of whiskey. “Right, cos he’s been really hands-on so far.”

“Dean—”

“No.” Slamming his bottle down on the side table, Dean stood and glowered at Cas. “We’ve had this talk before, Cas. God— God’s an asshole, alright?! He doesn’t care.” He spat. “About us, about _you_ — Where _was_ he when Sam had to throw himself into the cage to stop Lucifer?!”

Castiel snapped his mouth closed, stopping himself from telling Dean again what he had tried to tell him once: that the Lord worked in mysterious ways and no one, besides maybe His prophets, knew what He had planned for His creations. As soon as it crossed his mind, Cas paused, considering. “His prophet.”

“What— _Chuck_? What the hell does he have to do with—”

“He might have written more since we left for the cemetery. An explanation. The next part of the Winchester—”

“So help me if you say _gospel_ —”

“It is what it is.” Castiel stated, firm and unyielding in his annoyance. “It is also our only lead, if we’re to obtain answers.”

“And then what?” Dean shot back, scent spiking and souring, cinnamon being replaced with the sharp tang of citrus and pushing back against Castiel’s own darkening mood. “What good will it do?! Sam—”

And just like that, he deflated, grief washing over him. “Sam will still be in the cage. We can’t get him out.” Swallowing hard, Dean struggled to keep his face even and his emotions bottled. “I promised him that.”

Softening a notch as well, Castiel took a cautious step forward. “I know.” He did, as he had known most things as an angel. Prayers, conscious or not, longing, grief… It had all been _so clear_ to him. Now he was _blind_. Navigating emotions and thoughts as any other human. “And I would not ask you to break your promise Dean, but at the very least, we should get the answers we can, to make sure there’s no one else… pulling the strings?” Cas frowned, using fingers as literal quote marks. “I am not sure that is correct.”

“It is.” Bobby drawled, taking the change in demeanor as a chance to pull Dean back onto his seat with minimal arguing and preparing to stitch the gash on his cheekbone. “Be as it may, _no one_ is going anywhere tonight. We’re all tired, we all freaking _reek_ and we need to take this chance to lick our wounds and get a recharge, ‘aight?” Shifting his glare between the other two men, he nodded back when the they motioned their agreement. “Good. Now, you,” Bobby pointed at Castiel and then at the doorway. “Go get a shower while I finish stitching this one up. I’ll get ya something to wear that is not a ratty trench coat in a bit and leave it by the door.”

“It is not— _ratty_.”

“Oh, it’s somethin’, alright.”

“I do concede the point that we… reek.” Again, with the quote marks. Making a disgruntled expression, Castiel eyed the room and the other occupants. If he still had feathers, they would be ruffled. “Ever since we left the cemetery that I cannot stop smelling… _something_.” A huff. “Something floral and baked and mechanical— So many scents, all mixed up. It is unpleasant, to say the least.”

Bobby and Dean watched as Castiel turned and left at that without another word, gobsmacked. At last, Bobby cleared his throat. “He don’t know about scents?” He asked, straight to the point.

Dean closed his eyes, cursing in his head. He was not nearly drunk enough for the topic. “I don’t know, Bobby.” He drawled. “We never really had to discuss _basic_ human biology with an angel of the lord.”

“Well, maybe we _should_.” Bobby snarked back. “He’s human now, ain’t it? Might as well give him the crash course.”

“ _Fucking_ great.”

“Now shut your trap and let me finish your face.”

A last shot of whiskey and neither spoke again after that.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas have A Conversation(tm).  
> Bobby wonders why he had to adopt the sassiest children in the country.

Turns out, Cas did know plenty - as in _everything_ \- when it came to human biology.

Just not firsthand. 

Or _any_ hand.

Castiel knew of human biology like a noisy neighbor knew of everybody else's lives: by observation and no small amount of interest.

Suddenly Dean understood Cas's inability to comprehend personal space a little better.

When they first approached the subject, Castiel had bristled and reminded them that while his grace was gone, his eons of unmatched knowledge were not, _thank you very much_. A few books on the interactions between human alphas, betas and omegas should be enough, both Dean and Bobby thought as the later handed them over.

However, they quickly realized that knowledge did _not_ mean societal norms when Castiel marched up to them in the morning and confirmed he was an alpha (after _'a thorough investigation confirmed the presence of a knot at the base of his penis'_ , he said to Bobby’s consternation) and then walked up to Dean, grabbed him by the nape and proclaimed he _'wished to verify the veracity of the omegas' so called oversensitive area’_.

Bobby had yelled and Dean had swung at him the moment he could, cueing a very lengthy conversation about boundaries and healthy human interactions.

"I _am_ truly sorry."

"Dude, so you've said plenty of times now." Dean griped much later, bending over the impala's hood as he tinkered. "And every time, I've told you: it's fine, as long as you don't freaking do it again. Or a shiner will be the least of your problems."

"I understand." Deadpanned Cas, holding a bag of frozen peas to his right eye. It was already starting to darken. "The books you gave me might have been accurate about that particular piece of your anatomy," And if he noticed Dean rolling his eyes, Cas paid it no attention. "but they also said that omegas were known to be nurturing and pleasant." Putting himself partially in Dean's line of sight, Castiel pulled down the bag of frozen goods and pinned him with a squinty glare. "They lied."

“Yeah, well, sorry to put a dent on a bunch of outdated biases.” Dean snorted, only partially out of amusement. “Get used to it. When have you ever known me to conform to _any_ role?”

Tilting his head, Cas peered at Dean. “Fair enough.” He said after a moment. “Even without our history, I should have realized that humans are complex creatures, and none are the same, so it should be unfair to assume they’d all be reduced to a series of adjectives. Or behaviors.” Putting his face back in Dean’s line of sight, Castiel made sure to catch his eyes this time. “But you are missing the point of my apologies, Dean. I am not just apologizing for making a bold move towards you without consent, I am apologizing for disregarding your bodily autonomy and perpetuating harmful stereotypes.”

Straightening, Dean looked at Cas, dumbfounded.

Ever since the day he had presented, Dean had been fighting tooth and nail against other people’s expectations. From his father, who expected an alpha firstborn and got an omega instead; from other hunters, who sneered about his features and taunted him about his place in the hunting community (spoiler alert, it was _not_ on the field); from ordinary people, even, who balked at his resistance towards so-called social customs.

Cas had not been the first alpha to walk up to him and grab him by the scruff to prove a point.

Perhaps he wouldn’t be the last.

However, Cas had been human for just a few hours and had already decided to flip the proverbial bird at everything he fought against, so unlikely most people on _Earth_.

Slamming the impala’s hood shut, Dean turned and sat on it, blowing a sigh though his nose. He patted the spot next to him, waiting until Castiel gingerly settled on it. “You realize you just made a point most people would give you shit about, right?” Asked Dean. Cas frowned. “Not that you’re wrong— screw the idea that omegas are at the bottom of the food chain, but other alphas— fuck, other _omegas_ might give you shit about it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Buddy…” Trailing off, Dean began to regret starting this conversation. Still, as an angel, Cas had had his back plenty of times. _Hell, dude’s your best friend_ , Dean thought. He owed him: the least he could do was lend him a hand on the transition into humanity. It was going to be hard enough for him to adjust without trying to stick it to the system, he thought bitterly. “Look— You’re an alpha. In this world, alphas are dominant. They get the high paying jobs, the respect, the green light to do whatever. And I mean, _whatever_ : you could get away with murder, with the right excuse.” He scoffed, seeing Castiel’s frown deepen and his scent start to shift between them into something sour. “Betas just— get by, I guess, they’re regular, but _omegas_? Until I was eighteen, I couldn’t take a _piss_ at the side of the road without either my Dad or Sam.”

“Dean—”

“Alphas are raised to believe they can do whatever they fucking want over an omega. _With_ an omega. Their rights are the least of their concerns—"

“ _Stop_.”

Straightening with a jolt, Dean fought a scowl at the authority in Cas’s voice. The back of his neck prickled at the familiar tinge to obey an alpha’s order, but he did not become THE Dean Winchester by bowing his head at the first bark. He had mastered the art of ignoring most of the omega instincts within him long ago, now. Still, he didn’t recover fast enough to stop Cas before he continued. “I don’t care what you petty little humans might think of each other.” Castiel said bluntly. “If I don’t agree with it, which I _don’t_ , I’m not adhering to it. Omegas,” And Cas looked directly at Dean, making sure to hold his gaze once more. “ _you_ deserve better than that.” Placing his hand over the zone where his hand had once been engraved on Dean’s flesh, Cas squeezed. “I will never hold my designation over you, or anyone else like you, if I can help it. You have my word.” He vowed.

Staring back, Dean stayed silent long enough for Castiel to uncomfortably pull back his hand. “All I’m saying is that you might not be making many friends in the future with that mindset.” He said at last, looking away. He focused on a rusty can a few feet away, visibly swallowing as he geared himself up. “Still, I appreciate it.” Dean said gruffly. “Not many think, or feel, the way you do.”

Cas tilted his head, compiling a mental checklist. “Sam did.” He said at last. “So does Bobby.”

A snort. “Yeah, well— I said not _many_ of them do. Not all of them.” Dean hopped off the impala.

“Your father didn’t, then?” As soon as he said it, Castiel knew he’d pried too far. A wave of Dean’s scent, bitter and sour with anger, hit him like a blast of hot air. “I’m sorry,” He said quickly, also standing. “I didn’t mean— I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, well” Dean began to walk away. “Just watch out for the traditionalists.” He said over his shoulder.

And he was gone.

Chuck was unreachable.

They called, they left messages, they _emailed_ the prick, and all they got for their efforts was utter radio silence.

“Maybe what brought us back got to him.” Bobby offered, watching Cas pace around the kitchen.

“Or maybe, the asshole is ghosting us.” Dean offered with a humorless smirk, raising his beer towards the bearded man in a mock salute. Seeing Castiel squint at him in confusion at his choice of words, he relented. “I mean that he’s probably ignoring us, Cas.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He could actually know what’s going on and skedaddled because he knew we’d go to him for answers,” Dean began to list off. “Or he knew better than to stay around after we grilled him for the cemetery’s location. _Hell_ , he might have decided to jump town just to stay away from us.” He said at last, shrugging. “Does it matter, tho? Dude’s gone; we’re not getting answers.”

“Then we go to him.” Castiel stated, before looking away and concentrating on a faraway spot on the wall. A beat passed, Bobby and Dean looking at each other before back at him. “… I forgot I can’t fly anymore.” He said finally, dismayed. He visibly reigned it in. “We’ll have to drive there.”

Dean scoffed. “It’s a fourteen-hour drive, Cas.”

“You’ve driven longer for hunts, Dean.”

“Yeah, cos I was sure it would be worth checking it out! This could be a goose chase.”

“I do not see what chasing a goose has anything to do with finding the Prophet.” Castiel grouched back.

Clearing his throat as Dean threw his free hand up in frustration, Bobby rapped at the table to catch their attention. “What Dean means is that it might be for nothin’, Cas.” He explained gruffly, already thinking of other ways he might solve their problem as Castiel ruffled his proverbial feathers and his scent spiked with agitation. “Lemme reach out to a couple of buddies in Ohio.” Bobby quickly interjected. “I’ll ask them to check it out.”

“We can’t just give _anyone_ the address to a _Prophet of the Lord_ —”

“Yeah, call me freaking _stupid_ while at it, ya bloody idjit.” Seeing Castiel close his mouth with an audible click, Bobby waited until the other squirmed a little before he continued. _Feisty little shits, the lot of them_ , he thought. Just his luck. “Rufus is around those parts.” He traded a look with Dean, who nodded in agreement. “I’ll get in contact with him. Your buddy’s identity will be safe. Until then, keep trying to reach him.”

With a last tap on the table, Bobby left them with a warning look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to toe the line with Cas, here; as this is set past S5, he's still a bit stiff but not overly so.  
> Dean is still a prickly cactus.  
> I hope I'm managing to balance it well enough.  
> Let me know!


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rufus reaches back, Cas Cannot Deal(tm) and he and Dean reach an understanding.  
> Cas sorts out a little bit of everything.  
> Bobby loads his shotgun, just in case.

The very next morning, Rufus called them back.

“What do you mean, _are we sure_?” Bobby barked into his phone. “Of course, we’re _bloody sure_ — A freaking _angel_ gave me the address, course it’s _legit_ —”

By then, Dean and Castiel had already been attracted by the ruckus and were silent, simply watching the older alpha pace in circles around the kitchen table, as he listened to whatever was being said on the other side of the line. Eventually catching Bobby’s eye, Dean signaled him to put the phone on speaker. Whatever it was, they all had a right to know.

“Wait a damn minute, wait—” Fiddling with the device, Bobby eventually placed it on the counter between him and the others. “You’re on speaker so from the damn top: the hell you mean he don’t _exist_?”

“Wait, what?” Dean startled, as Cas stiffened in contrast.

_“He. Doesn’t. Bloody._ Exist _!”_ Rufus’ tiny voice cried from the speakers. _“Nobody ever heard of the damn guy! Not just a Chuck, not a Chuck Shirley or Carver_ _Edlund_ , _not even just about a damn random writer in town.”_ There was a pause for breath. _“Apartment block at the address you gave me doesn’t even exist. It’s an_ empty _lot.”_

“Empty, as in demolished?” Castiel loudly inquired, leaning towards the phone.

Dean wordlessly pulled him back with a slight shake of his head.

_“No, as in I’ve got vegetation up to my balls, that kinda empty!”_

“But that’s impossible, Rufus.” Dean interjected, seeing Cas’s mood darken and his scent sour at the jab. He raised a placating hand. Last thing they needed was Rufus on Castiel’s proverbial to-smite list, even if he _was_ kind of being an ass. “We were literally just there, not even three days ago. I’ve talked to him. How could he and his entire building just have vanished?”

_“Wait—_ Dean _? You the one after this so-called prophet? What, didn’t have enough on your plate, now you wanna worry about the divine, too?”_

“Just answer the damn question.”

_“Kid, I really don’t know.”_ There was a loud crackling sound from the other side of the line before they could understand what Rufus was saying again _. “—asked around, went to all the freaking real estate brokers I could find, and no one knew what the hell I was talking about. This part of town has been inhabited for_ years _. I don’t know what else to tell you.”_

“Well, keep checking around for more clues.” Said Bobby. “Fairies, warlocks, angels, tricksters, _hell_ — anything,” He rolled his eyes, exchanging a look with Dean. “Just. _Anything_ , Rufus.”

_“…Yeah, well. We’re damn_ even _after this.”_ And the line went dead.

Silence fell upon them as a heavy blanket, after. Oppressing, suffocating.

Abruptly, Castiel’s scent entirely filled the small room, sharp like vinegar. He looked defeated yet quietly furious, head bowed, fists clenched tightly against his sides. With a jerk, the former angel straightened and moved to leave, but Dean was faster and a hand on his arm stopped him.

Moving a little closer, Dean let his scent be a balm on Cas’s foul mood. “Don’t you just run.” He felt Cas’s arm tense beneath his touch and swallowed. Dean had no doubt in his mind that if Cas still had his grace, that the lights would be flickering.

Even without his power, intensity radiated out of the other man and yeah, it wasn’t as if Dean had never seen the other angry. Sometimes it was almost as if they forgot about it but, as mild as Castiel now was, he _had_ been a warrior of God. His shield. When they first met, Cas had been cold. Analytical. Almost cruel in his bluntness, even. Yet, they had welcomed him into their family, way before he had lost his mojo. Damn it, Dean _cared_. So, they would get through this together. “Talk to us instead, man.” He asked, squeezing the bicep he was holding.

Cas’s tart scent was quick to slap him across the face, however, nearly making Dean choke. “You’re asking me to talk? _You_?” Snarled Cas as the omega’s scent diminished and the soothing sensation that had been licking at his mind retreated. Snatching his arm back, Castiel turned and crowded the other, eyes flashing. “The definition of emotional repression has _you_ as an example and you’re telling _me_ to open up? How could you expect to know what I am feeling, Dean?” Even the name felt like a jab. They both vaguely heard Bobby’s warning to cool it. “I am _nothing_. I used to be able to see, to hear things your human mind could not comprehend— souls, some of which of colors your kind has yet to discover! Wavelengths, thoughts, my _brothers,_ and _sisters_ — Now, there is only silence, everything is _dull_ , and you expect me to _fix_ it just by _talking_ about it?!”

“Damn it Cas, that’s not what I meant—”

Slapping his hands down on Dean’s chest, Castiel grabbed two fistfuls of the other’s flannel and slammed him hard against the fridge. Trinkets were falling and Bobby was yelling and pulling at him, but he held firm, snarling in Dean’s face. “Finding that Prophet was my last hope at getting back my grace and now, that too, is gone!”

“You are not just your grace!” Dean snarled back, baring his teeth as he struggled to shove the other off. “You never were!”

“But I am! I _was_! Now, I cannot heal you!” Barked Castiel, desperate. “I cannot fight with the efficiency I once had, I can’t perform anymore _miracles_ , Dean! If you die fighting, I—” He choked, bowing his head. “I am only as good as my deeds and now I can’t do any of them anymore. I,” And the realization hurt, as it hit him. How very _human_.

“I am _scared_.”

There was a beat of silence, during which Dean only stared at the crown of Castiel’s dark head. _Of course, he was_ , he thought bitterly. Cas’s entire world had just been upended and neither him nor Bobby had given a damn, so far up their asses as they were in their own grief. Feeling more than seeing Bobby shift to pull at Cas once more, Dean put out a halting hand. “Bobby, take a walk.”

Said man looked at him as if he were insane. “Are you freaking _kidding_ —”

“Bobby.” Dean met his eyes. “Take. A walk.”

Only moving when he heard the older man turn and leave with an angry huff, Dean gripped Castiel’s wrists and gave them a shake, trying to pry them from his clothes. At least he wasn’t pining him anymore. “You, take a seat.” He said, pushing off the fridge. Cas didn’t still bulge. “C’mon, man. Take a seat, c’mon.” A little more pulling and Cas was moving, being manhandled into a wooden chair as his scent receded and became more subdued. Sitting as well, Dean faced Castiel. For a moment neither talked, unsure. “Ya know,” Dean started, throat bobbing as he swallowed. If he wanted Cas to talk to him, he’d have to start somewhere. Might as well go first. “You’re right.” He spread his hands in a _what-can-you-do_ motion. “Chick flick moments, emotions, opening up, _whatever_ — That’s not me. That— that was Sam.”

_Sam_.

Dean’s composure cracked. Sagging his shoulders, he leaned on his knees and let out a shaky breath as his brother’s face flashed in his mind. “That little nerd.” He chuckled humorlessly, closing his eyes against the wave of emotion that threatened to clog his throat. He needed to keep talking. “If he were here, he’d know what to say. Kept pushing me to talk, but I know man, I— I don’t know. I don’t know _how_. You were right about that.”

“No.” Cas spoke then, lifting his head. Pained, he looked anywhere but Dean. “I was out of turn. I shouldn’t have lashed out, verbally or—”

“You were right.” Dean interjected, staring the other down until Cas looked back at him. “I know it, you know it. Hell, anyone who knows me, knows it.” He swiped a hand across his mouth. “Sometimes, it’s easier to pretend. That it didn’t happen. If you talk it out, it becomes real, ya know? But Cas,” Dean rested a hand on the other’s knee, hoping that it came across as reassuring rather than creepy. “Just, don’t emulate me. I’m not exactly a role model, buddy.”

“I beg to differ.” Replied Cas softly, losing some of the tension on his shoulders. Dean swallowed again under the gaze. “I do realize it is difficult, to be so open about your feelings. It makes you feel… vulnerable.” He said, knowing how he felt when he confessed his fear. “But with vulnerability may come healing, Dean.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, so next time you feel overwhelmed, you talk to me.” He stated, giving Cas a pointed look. “Or, you know. Bobby. Someone. Anyone. Just— don’t let it consume you, ok? You’re human now.” And he said it matter-of-factly, trying not to rub salt on the wound. “You’ll be feeling things more acutely, I guess. Hell, you’re now learning how to actually feel, right?” Cas nodded. “You’ll need help to navigate all that, man. I mean, humans have their entire lives to do that and most still don’t know how.” Dean tried for a joke, jabbing a thumb towards himself. It worked, as Cas let out a small smile. “You’ve been there for us. Let us be there for you.”

Castiel slowly nodded, accepting Dean’s terms. “As long as you try to follow your own advice.” With a roll of his eyes, Dean nodded his agreement. Still, Cas couldn’t help but continue to worry. “My fears remain, though. I cannot help you in the same capacity as I used to, should you hunt. I worry…” And Cas had a new appreciation for Sam Winchester, who expressed himself so openly. For Dean, who visibly struggled every day with his own walls but was now trying before him. “I worry for you.” He confessed, resting his hand over Dean’s before the other could remove it from where it still rested on his knee. “I worry about you getting hurt and not being able to do anything to help.”

Dean pursed his lips, feeling his chest contract as Castiel squeezed his hand, looking so damn earnest. He hadn’t expected that. That Cas might be feeling unsure about his place in the world, _yeah_ , but not. Scared for _him_. He, who had treated Cas sometimes with less kindness than he had probably deserved, who had been curt and downright rude at him just because he needed to lash out and Cas was just there. That kind of unwavering loyalty…

The world was going to eat him alive.

_Well_ , Dean thought, _that I can soothe_.

“You don’t need to worry anymore, then. I’m retiring.”

Blinking, Cas titled his head. “… You are barely middle aged, Dean. I thought humans retired when they neared the end of their lives.”

Dean fought the instinct to roll his eyes once more. Classic Cas, there you were. “I meant, from hunting. I promised.” His heart squeezed again. “I promised Sam I’d get out. Try and have a normal life once he was gone.” Shrugging a shoulder, Dean tried to act nonchalant. “So, you don’t have to worry about me getting ganked by a ghost or worse, a vampire. I’ll be fine.”

Cas fell silent, obviously processing. He squinted, staring at Dean with an intensity that wanted to make him squirm. Then let his hand go. “You’re leaving, then.”

“No.” Dean was quick to say, brushing aside the image of Lisa he instantly conjured. “Or… not yet, at least. There’s a lot I still need to figure out. Where to go, what to do… I’ll be starting over.” And if that didn’t scare him, somewhat. He, who had dozens of aliases and had impersonated so many other people, was afraid when it came to living his own life. _Figures_.

“Regardless of what you decide, you won’t be alone. I will be, too.” Said Castiel, earnestly. “Starting over, I mean. Maybe I can help.”

Dean cracked the first sincere smile in a while. “Yeah… That’d be great.” Straightening his flannel, he still gave the other a withering look. “No more manhandling, though. You’re lucky you didn’t get a matching shiner on your left.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course. I will do better.”

Patting Cas’s shoulder reassuringly as he got up, Dean left the kitchen to tell Bobby he could come back.

He was in for a lecture, might as well face the music.

Later at night, and after Bobby had suitably teared both Dean and Cas a new one for acting like ‘ _mindless dumbasses’_ , Castiel found himself on top of an old car, watching the stars as he thought, attempting to get his footing.

His mind was a mess.

First, there was the issue of his grace.

More than a mass of volatile celestial energy, an angel’s grace was a part of who they were. The closest and most reliable comparison to offer a human would be a soul. Without it… It felt as if there was a hole in him.

Closing his eyes, Castiel tried to focus inwardly.

Sometimes, he could almost hear whispers, as if he was still able to listen to his family. Still, it rapidly vanished, quick enough to wonder if he was imagining it, like one would a phantom limb.

Despite their (many) flaws, Castiel found that he missed them.

Missed their voices, incomprehensible and harmful to humans – to him, now. Their unique choir, their familiar grace, and wavelengths.

Even the consciousness of Jimmy Novak, his vessel, was gone. _Likely at Heaven_ , Cas thought, because of his death at the hands of Lucifer.

Never had he felt so alone.

_No_ , Castiel thought _, not alone_.

Family by blood or not, he had Bobby, who treated him as his own and cared for him like he did for Dean and Sam, in his own unique, cranky way. He had Dean, who was so visibly struggling to juggle his grief and doing his best to be there for him, by listening to him talk and then working tirelessly to put the impala up to a standard only he knew about, though never going back inside of it for fear of looking into the passenger’s seat and finding it permanently empty.

Castiel turn his head, looking at said car in the darkness of the junkyard.

Dean.

Cas was oblivious, he knew. Humans intricacies were many and puzzling: no matter how old he was, he never had to _care_ for them. He just didn’t meddle with humans for it to matter, for him to need to learn about them. Not until he was given the order to pull Dean out of Hell and watch over him, then grew to care for his charge.

Sam too, of course. Bobby, as well.

But Cas was not stupid.

He knew whatever he had been harboring for Dean was not simply the care one might feel towards a friend. He did not care for him the way he had cared for Sam; he knew that.

He had told Anna so. And she understood.

_It gets worse_ , she had said.

Ever since he had opened his eyes in that cemetery, Castiel had been grappling with _everything_. As he had told Dean, everything was silent in his head. So silent it was nearly too loud to bear. Then there was the world around him. It had lost his shine and became muted in the absence of his grace. Mundane.

On the other hand, the scents in the air were overwhelming. The flowers, the dirt, the _people_. Dean, so sweet yet so _him_ , a mixture of baked goods (pie?) and cinnamon and motor oil, with an underlying, not so pleasant trace of smoke and sulfur. Bobby, also with the motor oil (perhaps a link to paternal bonds?) and pine and sandalwood.

Then came the feelings, so many and all at once that Castiel had trouble thinking through them. Anger felt like holy fire, burning and scathing. Contentment like a soothing breeze during a hot afternoon. Sadness, like cloudy day, a missed opportunity.

Love, something between a panicky squeeze in his chest and the familiar feeling of wind on his wings, light and bright.

How did humans live with so _much_ every day and not break under the pressure of it all?

And then… Castiel let out an overwhelmed sigh. The twisting in his gut. Something coiling within him, whenever he experienced— _anything_ , really _. His instincts_ , he vaguely recognized from the prose in the books Bobby had given him. _His alpha_ , or something strange like that. As if there was an alternate being within him, waiting to assume control.

The books encouraged him to embrace it, to follow its directions but Castiel _didn’t want to_.

That feeling made him grab Dean and hurt him, so deep in his anger as he was. He had smelled the other’s underlying distress beneath the defiance, knowing he had put it there and had felt almost _proud_ about it.

It disgusted him.

Castiel was better than that. He had promised Dean he _would_ be better than that, in that very same junkyard. Yet, just a few hours later, he had failed completely.

He didn’t doubt that this innate force had its practical uses, years of human evolution were proof of that, but he would not, _must_ not fall victim to it.

He needed to reign it in. He was the master of his own body and feelings, and it would not rule him, Castiel vowed.

So deep in his musings, Castiel failed to notice the presence beside him until it cleared his throat, sound loud and grating in the quietness of the night. He was not proud to admit it made him jump, heart pumping in his throat as he looked over to see Bobby standing there, looking down on him.

His ball cap was off, and the faint sheen of the streetlights outside cast deep shadows over his face, making it hard for Castiel to make out his expression.

_In for another earful_ , thought Cas as he carefully sat, maintaining eye contact with the older man. Yet, the other didn’t say anything, just content with staring him down. _Another alpha ritual_ , he realized, _he’s trying to intimidate me_. For what now, he did not know.

Eventually, Bobby stopped glowering long enough to talk. “Earlier today,” He started, talking low. “You said you were worried about not being able to heal anymore. Right?”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Heal Dean.”

“… Yes.”

“ _Just_ Dean.” Bobby shifted closer, tightening his crossed arms. Castiel understood then, with another powerful beat of his heart— and wasn’t that strange, _his_ heart. _His_. Yet another sensation he had yet to grow used to, how his body kept betraying his thoughts and feelings.

Cas wet his lips, before nodding his assent. “Yes.”

“… ‘Kay.” Nodding back, Bobby let another moment pass before gesturing between them. “Don’t let him know about this. Kid would have my ass for going behind his back to grill you.”

“Grill—?”

“Pester you.”

“Ah.”

Watching Bobby turn and start to leave, Cas blurted, “I’m glad you did, though. Grill me.” Quotation marks. “Means you care about him. That is a good thing.”

There was enough light that Castiel saw Bobby soften at his words. “Yeah. Those boys, dumbasses as they are, they’re mine.” He said, thumping his chest over his heart. “Regardless of blood, relationship, whatever. _Mine_. And now? You are too.”

Castiel felt a lump form in his throat at Bobby’s sincerity. The man barely knew him and yet... “Thank you.”

Bobby waved it away. “Don’t mean I won’t break your legs if you do wrong by Dean, tho.”

And then he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a behemoth that refused to come out of my head in a way I deemed worthy. Add to that the fact that today was a very shitty day and there's a moody cocktail friends, but I hope I did it justice.  
> Things should lighten up for a while in the next chapters, now.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean & Cas go shopping.  
> Bobby makes observations.  
> Cas thinks about the future.

“Boxers or briefs?”

“Jimmy seemed to prefer boxers.”

“Well, we’re not shopping for Jimmy, are we?”

“It _is_ his body.”

“ _No_ , it’s _yours_ , so you get to dress how you want to. Hell, you can do whatever you want with it, now.” Throwing two packs of boxers and briefs each into their cart, Dean threw a cheeky grin Castiel’s way. “What will it be, Cas? A tattoo? _A tramp stamp_?”

“A _what_ —”

“ _Ohh_.” Dean wiggled his fingers towards Cas, having way too much fun now. “Piercings. _Oh_. A nipple piercing. _Two_ nipple piercings.”

Castiel looked alarmed now. “Why would I want needles anywhere near two very sensitive bundle of nerves on my chest? Why would I want them _perforated_?”

“Not a kink, then.” Dean snorted, moving on down the aisle.

Following with a tired sigh, Castiel tried to keep up with the other man. Earlier that morning, both Dean and Bobby had looked at him back in his suit and trench and decided that he needed a new wardrobe. _You sweat now_ , Dean had said. _You need other clothes_ , Bobby had agreed. Cas suppressed a huff, watching as Dean sorted through a lengthy rack of tees and sweatshirts. He _liked_ his outfit, but he understood their point. It _would_ be unhygienic to wear the same set of clothes as a human. So, here he was, being dragged around by Dean and having to make choices about things he did not even understand.

Why did it matter if he wore boxers or briefs?

They were both uncomfortable.

He would much rather go without.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Castiel thought. “The color of trust, loyalty and understanding. Maybe also, the color of midafternoon contentment, of happiness, and optimism, of enlightenment and creativity.” Turning back to Dean, he saw the other stare at him in bewilderment. “… Too specific, perhaps.”

Dean pinched his fingers together. “A little, yeah.”

Tilting his head, Cas gave Dean a squinty glare. “… Blue.” He said at last, giving up. “And yellow.”

“See, why didn’t you say so from the beginning?”

“It doesn’t do them _justice_.”

“They’re colors, dude, not the meaning of life.” Dean laughs, waving him over. “Here, look at these. Anything you like? What’s your size, anyway?”

Castiel hesitated. “I… do not know.”

“You don’t— Never mind, turn around.” Reaching, Dean pulled on Cas’s shirt and tried to check the tag, nearly choking the other in the process. “Did you cut it off, where the hell—” Dean kept muttering, pulling the shirt down further.

“Uh, Dean?”

“Yea?”

“People are staring.”

“So? Let them.” Dean said casually, finally finding the tag. Completely nonplussed, he went back to the racks and chose several shirts of the correct size. “Here, look at these. Which ones do you like?”

With the last shred of dignity he still had left, Cas tried to right his shirt and tie while ignoring the still curious onlookers. Looking at the shirts, he faltered, though. “I… they’re functional?”

Dean sighed, giving the items a shake. “No, I mean— _Look_ at them.” He searched for the right way to explain. “Which ones do you prefer? Softer material or thicker? Tighter fit or baggier? Which ones call out to _you_ , man?”

Castiel floundered, getting nervous just watching Dean try to get through to him. “Uh,” He stammered. “As in, which ones are the most aesthetically pleasing?”

“Yeah!” Relief flooded Dean’s entire body. _Jesus_ , this was hard. How do you clearly communicate with a billion-year-old being who had the social skills of a mackerel? “Clothes are not just used to cover your body, you know. Humans use them to express themselves.” Dean shrugged. “An introduction to your personality, to who you are.”

“I was a warrior.” Cas squinted in thought, eyeing the articles of clothing. “Perhaps I should look for armor?”

“ _No_. Dude,” Dean sighed. “In a symbolic way or whatever, clothing _is_ already armor. You want to look authoritative; wear a sharp, tailored suit. Nothing keeps people on their toes better than looking razor sharp.” He explained. “You want to look approachable; go with soft, casual clothing. It’s like a handshake, right? You want to go in and give that hand a firm, brief shake, cos people will judge you based on how you do it. The same happens with clothes. People look at you and form an unconscious opinion of you. Choosing how you dress is playing with _that_.”

Castiel looked finally enlightened. “It’s _psychology_. Like how rich colors and silks were reserved for the wealthy, in ancient human cultures, because they were so striking.”

“Uh, sure.” _Of course, he’d see it that way_ , Dean considered. He kept forgetting Cas was older than dirt. “What will it be, Cas?” Asked Dean, shaking the hangers still waiting on his arms.

Finally considering it, Castiel reached for the clothes only to put them back in the racks after checking the size Dean had selected. Moving further down the aisle, he began to choose a variety of dress shirts and soft sweatshirts in various soft colors, even a few knit sweaters. “Ah, yes.” Said Dean sagely, nodding. “Still holy tax accountant, just not as holy and with a side of suburban husband.” He still couldn’t hide his smirk when Cas dumped a few white, blue, and yellow flannels on the cart with a withering look.

“Not all of us can pull off looking like a lumberjack.” Deadpanned Cas, going for a pack of undershirts as well. He smiled at Dean’s soft huff of amusement and then eyed him critically. “What does it mean?” Castiel asked, nodding towards Dean’s leather jacket. “To wear your father’s clothing?”

Immediately, Cas knew had made a mistake. Dean’s easy smile fell, and his walls came up, tensing his shoulders. Before he could apologize, the other had already walked past him towards the winter jackets, without a word. Castiel swallowed a sigh and walked after him, doing it slowly as to give him time to work through his anger. “We should discuss boundaries.” Said Castiel when he reached the younger man. Dean looked over his shoulder, brow furrowed. “I keep saying the wrong thing and upsetting you. I’d like to avoid that.”

Continuing to sort through the jackets, Dean tried to keep up the pretense but soon decided to drop it at Castiel’s earnest gaze burning into the back of his head. “Sometimes, clothing is just clothing.” He said at last. “ _Sometimes_ , people develop connections to it. Like this jacket.” Dean ran his hands down the worn leather. “… Dad wore it all the time. Mom gave it to him.”

Castiel nodded in understanding. “It’s way of carrying them with you, despite them not being physically present.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean conceded.

“Is it the same with Impala, then?”

“No.” Dean quickly answered, shaking his head. He thought of scratched initials and plastic army soldiers. “Baby’s more than that. For a long time, it was home. The only one we had.”

Castiel softened and nodded, even though Dean had his back to him. “I see.” Pausing, he rested a hand on the other’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thank you for telling me.”

“ _Jesus_.” Rubbing a hand down his face, Dean finally turned. “Look, it’s fine. I know you don’t see boundaries like the rest of us and honestly, I have no idea how the hell to explain that to you, so we keep doing what we’ve been doing: you ask whenever you have questions and we’ll take it from there, okay?” Castiel nodded in agreement. “Good. Now,” Dean pointed at the collection of heavy jackets behind him. “Choose one.”

Cas buried his hands in his trench coat’s pockets to make a point. “I already have a jacket, Dean.”

“Yeah, no.” Snorted Dean, shaking his head. Castiel scowled. “Winter’s coming, Cas. You’ll need something thicker than that if you wanna survive it.”

“I could do layers.” Cas tried to compromise. At Dean’s burning glare, he relented. “Fine.” He looked at the many articles of clothing, in so many different colors. How did one even begin to choose— Suddenly, Cas saw it. He reached for it. Dean groaned loudly. Holding the tan, single-breasted overcoat, Castiel smiled triumphantly. “I have chosen a new jacket.”

“Cas, no—”

“It is very thick. And warm. It’s wool, Dean.”

“ _Cas_ —”

“I like it _very_ much.” Castiel saw the moment he won the argument, as Dean deflated and held out a hand for the offensive article of clothing. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m choosing your footwear.” Dean huffed, shoving a finger at Cas.

“We still need more clothing?”

“Just that. And socks.” Said Dean, shoving a pair of thick gloves and a beanie in the cart as he spoke.

Cas looked uncomfortable, seeing the pile. “This is too much, Dean. I don’t know—”

“Hey, this? It’s nothing. What you’ve done for us these past years more than makes up for a wardrobe, dude.” Still, Dean patted Castiel’s arm. “You have to start somewhere. I— _We_ ’re more than happy to help with that. Bobby and I. We’re in this together, okay?”

And Castiel knew. “Okay.”

“How was he?”

Lifting his head from his food, Castiel found Bobby looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry?” The older alpha rolled his eyes and jutted his chin towards Dean, standing by the outside grill. “I… still do not understand.” Cas frowned, looking at Dean as well. He was oblivious to their attention, flipping patties. “He was _Dean_.”

Bobby sighed. “So ya didn’t notice he’s just dandy? Flipping burgers, taking you out shopping, helping me around the garage when he’s not ass deep in that car of his.” He shrugged. “Nothin’ like that?”

“Shouldn’t we want him to be okay?” Why was it a problem?

“Yeah, we should.” Turning fully towards Cas, Bobby rested his elbows in the table and leaned forward. “But not when it’s gonna come back to blow up in his face.” At Castiel’s alarmed look, Bobby rapped the wood beneath his hand. “Figure of speech. Castiel, his lil’ brother is _dead_.” He reminded gently, as gentle as a gruff hunter could be. “He should be wallowing and breaking things, it’s how Dean _copes_. Yet,” Bobby titled his head towards the omega in the distance. “It’s like nothing happened.”

Castiel understood then, frowning at his plate. “He’s not processing his grief.” He stated, looking up for confirmation.

Bobby nodded. “He talk to you about Sam?”

“No. He mentioned him, after our altercation a few days ago, but nothing substantial.” Castiel titled his head. “Would you like me to talk to him?”

“Jesus, hell _no_.” Leaning back in his seat, Bobby gave Cas a look like he thought he was insane. “You hit him with that, and he’ll just clam up, if he doesn’t blow a gasket first. Nah, better to just— keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s not doin’ anything stupid and be there for him should he want to open up, alright?” Cas nodded. “Alright. Now,” Bobby picked up his beer and pointed it in Castiel’s direction. “Tell me about you, boy. What’s the plan?”

“… Plan?”

“Yea. I mean, what will you do now? Got any dreams, anything you wanna do?”

And wasn’t that a question that had been haunting Castiel since he was resurrected. What _did_ he want to do?

His social skills were limited, his marketable skills even more— He didn’t _know_.

And he should, shouldn’t he? Bobby’s friend failed to find any hint of the supernatural back in Ohio, so it was permanent, wasn’t it?

He was human. His grace, lost.

He wasn’t getting it back.

“Hey.” Shaken out of his thoughts, Castiel turned to find Bobby looking at him sympathetically. “It’s alright not to know, okay? You’ve been human for less than a week, most people don’t know what they wanna do with their lives for well,” A shrug. “Their whole lives, really. You led an army, right?”

“A garrison.” Cas nodded.

Bobby waved it away. “Yeah, same thing, I mean— that’s leadership. You could take on supervisor jobs.”

Castiel squinted. “Perhaps. I don’t know.” He said at last. “I… I am human, but still possess all this knowledge of the world that I’ve amassed as an angel. It seems a waste to let it go unshared.” Cas confessed. “But I’m not sure how to proceed, how to put it to use.”

Tapping his bottle on the table, Bobby gave him an appreciative nod. “That we can work with. I’ll reach out to a couple associates, see what we can do, okay?”

“Bobby…” Castiel felt his chest constrict, heavy with gratitude. “I wouldn’t know how to repay you.”

“You just don’t. Kids aren’t meant to.”

By the time Castiel was back in control of his emotions, Dean was back with the rest of the food and the conversation was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a lighter chapter.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Bobby have a talk.

Dean played with the phone in his hands.

A little more than a week had passed since Lucifer was put in the cage and his bruises were now mostly gone, save for some light discoloration.

He figured this was as good as he was going to get.

It was time to move on, right?

Dean unlocked the phone, staring blankly at the contacts. He had promised Sam that, when all was said and done, he’d go back to Lisa and Ben. He had meant it too. Hunting was never the life he wanted.

He wanted _normal_.

He wanted to mow the lawn, worry about bills, rake leaves, have stupid arguments about stupid things like dirty clothes out of the hamper— Hell, he craved a _partner_. Even kids, one day, who knew. And now he had a chance to get it.

Lisa was dear to him. Ben too. Sam had known that.

Dean just wasn’t sure that was enough.

They had had something special (best and bendiest weekend of his life, _indeed_ ) but, at the end of the day, Lisa was still a Beta with a successful life and he was just an (male) Omega with very little education and little to no prospects for the future.

The dynamic alone would be hard to navigate.

Fine for fun.

For an apple pie life? Not so much. Not impossible, sure, but would require a lot of hard work Dean isn’t sure he’s in the headspace to provide.

Still, he owed it to Sam to try, right?

Dean hesitated with his thumb over Lisa’s name.

“What’re ya doin’, sitting there?”

Jumping, Dean muttered a soft _son of a bitch_ under his breath as Bobby sat beside him on a pile of scrap. “Do I need to put a bell on you?”

“You could try. Don’t deflect.” Bobby snorted, noticing Dean’s rosy nose and cheeks. “Trying to freeze to death? Where’s your jacket?”

“Not cold.” Replied Dean, though he wrapped his arms around his chest. “Just… thinking.”

“About?” At Dean’s silence, Bobby forced down a wave of frustration. He had always known Dean had walls a mile high, but it never stopped exasperating him. It wasn’t his fault; he knew it was John’s and his outstanding lack of parenting skills. It was still hard to navigate, like juggling a live grenade. The omega either folded like a lawn chair under the care or fought back like an angry bear. Usually the later. “Dean,” Bobby started, deciding to test the waters. “How are you doin’, kid? Really?”

Dean frowned. “I’m fine.”

“Quit the bullshit.” Bobby snarked, regretting the tone when Dean’s expression shuttered closed. Still, he pushed on. “I’d be gutted if my little brother died and I couldn’t do anything to change that.” Reaching out, Bobby grabbed onto Dean’s arm the moment he jumped to his feet. He squeezed, knowing he was on thin ice as waves of sour omega scent washed over him. “I’m not trying to antagonize ya.” He soothed. “Or rub salt on the wound. I’m just trying to shoulder some of that weight on your shoulders, Atlas. That’s what family _does_.”

Swallowing hard, Dean tried to decide if he should just shake Bobby’s hand off and storm away or take a seat. What he truly wanted was to run away, bury his head in the Impala and forget. Maybe drink a bottle or two. _Anything_. Still, Bobby was nothing but earnest and his scent comforting. He cared; Dean knew. All his life, Bobby had always been the one who _always_ cared, no matter what mistakes he made. Dean swallowed hard. Slowly, he sat back down. “I don’t know what to say.” He said eventually.

“Start by telling me what’s bothering ya right now.” Bobby suggested, pointing a thick finger at the phone still clutched in Dean’s hand.

Sighing, Dean swiped a hand over his face. “I made a promise to Sam.” He began. “When he realized he’d have to go in the cage, he made me promise I wouldn’t get him out and that I’d retire from hunting.” Dean snuck a glance at Bobby. “There was also this woman.” At that, Bobby made a soft inquisitive noise. “We had a fling in the past but recently met again and,” Dean shrugged before raising his phone. “I also promised Sam I’d go back to her and her son.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow then. “A fling? And the natural progression from that is to become a suburban dad?” At Dean’s icy glare, the older man raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just sayin’, kid. It’s a big leap.”

“There was this case a couple years ago, changelings. We got Ben, her kid, back and a bunch of others. In the end, she opened the door for more, and she’s— _special_ to me, but I didn’t take it.” Pausing, Dean rubbed a hand down his face again, pressing down on the bruises. Hoping the pain would ground him. “Then, I almost said yes to Michael.” He confessed, swallowing as Bobby’s scent spiked with protectiveness. “Things weren’t working out and I didn’t think we could stop Lucifer anymore, so I went to her place to say goodbye. Her door was still open, and then Sam made me promise.” Dean finished, tapping the phone on his knee. “Now, all I gotta do is call her.”

Bobby took a while to reply. “What do you want?” He asked at last.

“What do I— Bobby,” Scoffed Dean, startled. “I _promised_ Sammy.”

“Yea, you did, but what do _you_ want?” The other pressed. “Kid, let’s be realistic: if you truly wanted to go to that Lisa, wouldn’t you have already packed and gone straight to her door? Instead, here ya are, looking at that phone like it’s gonna bite ya.”

“Bobby—”

“Listen to me, ya _idjit_. Yeah, I know, _we_ know, that you’ve made a promise to Sam, but we also both know that that kid would just want you to stop suffering through the hunter lifestyle and _be_ happy, with people who’d make ya happy. Now, stop. _Think_. Imagine yourself a year, two, ten years down the road with this Lisa and her kid. Are _you_ happy?”

Swallowing hard, Dean had to look away. He thought of him and Lisa, trying to make it work. He didn’t know her family, so he had no idea of how that would go: they could end up hating him, for all he knew. Just his designation alone would cause arguments, he was sure. If they ever thought of starting a family, it would open a massive can of worms. Male omegas often had a low sperm count so, if they ever wanted any biological kids of their own, they’d have to go through a lot of medical trouble to get them. Would they find a doctor even willing to help, given their designations? Would their relationship survive that kind of stress? What they had was barely built on crumbs, now.

Then, Ben. He really liked Ben, but in the little time they had spent together, he had already broken some of Lisa’s private rules, by teaching him how to throw a punch towards his bullies. Dean had no doubt more of those would happen; he and Lisa came from completely different backgrounds. While he would make sure Ben would never have to shoot a gun, he would still make sure he knew how to defend himself.

With his name came danger, that was a given. Did he want to subject Lisa and Ben to that?

They weren’t strangers to the supernatural but had no idea what it entailed. They didn’t know about demons, about angels, about all the scary crap that lurked in the shadows. He was retiring, so he wouldn’t be hunting anymore, but nothing stopped the monsters from coming to _them_. If faced with a threat, Dean sure as hell would pick up arms again and get rid of it for the sake of his family: would they accept that? Or would they recoil?

So, Dean tried to take Sam’s earnest face out of his mind and tried to imagine himself in an actual relationship with Lisa.

Meanwhile, Bobby watched as Dean battled with himself. On one hand, he hated to put the pressure on him: he knew what Dean’s promises were worth. Kid would go to hell and back for them, quite literally. To even consider breaking one, to Sam no less, had to be murder on his self-flagellation. On the other hand, Bobby was aware he had to give Dean the push. Lord knew he was incapable of thinking about himself; what he deserved, what he _needed_. Others always came first, even if it killed him.

Right now, he was at a turning point: Dean was open to accepting happiness, be it with his former girlfriend or not.

Bobby couldn’t _not_ take the shot.

After what felt an eternity in the cold draft of a late Autumn day, Bobby saw Dean open his eyes. His heart leapt and he knew Dean could smell his worry, but kid was blinking back tears. Last time he’d seen that, Dean had just gone through his last growth spurt and presented, and John was drunkenly yelling at him for things he had no control over. “Dean?” He called, reaching to touch his forearm. His scent began to grow in intensity, thick with grief and anger.

“I can’t.” Dean finally said, blinking furiously. He cleared his throat, trying to get himself under control. “I can’t do it. Can’t _see_ it.”

“Dean—”

“I _can’t_ — Fuck, _Sammy_ —!”

Jumping to his feet when Dean cracked the back of his head into the old car behind him in frustration, Bobby was quick to place a hand on the injury and held tight, preventing the other from doing it again. “Dean, for fuck’s sake—” Yelled Bobby, holding on to the struggling omega. Eventually, Dean ran out of steam and Bobby was successful in pulling him away from the scrap, pressing his face to his chest instead. He kept his hand on the back of Dean’s head, just above his nape and over the bruise. “Kid, listen to me.” He said carefully, but firmly, fingers buried in dirty blond hair. “Sam loved you. _I_ love you, and I know with absolute freaking certainty that all he ever wanted was for you to be happy. If you can’t be that with that Lisa woman, I _know_ he would not hold it against you. In fact, he’d be proud you recognized it and didn’t become a martyr just to keep your word.”

Bobby pointedly ignored the growing wet spot on his shirt, just holding the other. Dean was tense in his arms, hugging himself tightly against him. Still, he continued. “Now’s the time to think for yourself, kid.” He said, patting Dean’s shoulder with his free hand before squeezing, thumb idly rubbing the soft cotton of the shirt beneath his hand until the other began to relax a bit. “You need to have a big, long think about what you wanna do going forward. About what makes you happy, cos when you find that and go after it, then you’ll have fulfilled your promise to Sam. Okay?” There was a jerky nod against his chest. “Good.”

They stayed like that for a while, until the soft, distant clattering of a pan falling, and an Enochian curse was heard. “C’mon.” Bobby said gruffly, letting Dean sit back and giving him some privacy as he rubbed his face free of the evidence of tears. “Cas’s probably destroying my kitchen as we speak.”

“You left him in charge of dinner?” Dean asked, voice thick as he rose. “Can he even cook?”

“He assured me he could follow directions, so I left him with Karen’s cookbook and a silent prayer.” Bobby drawled as Dean snorted beside him. He smiled a little, hiding it with his cap. “We might need to order take-out, tho.”

“I can whip something up.”

“Nah.” Said Bobby, throwing an arm over Dean’s shoulders – an accomplishment, when the kid was a head taller than him – and squeezing him against his side. “We all deserve a night off. ‘Sides, gotta celebrate.” At Dean’s confusion, he explained. “Called a couple buddies over at Bloomington, got Cas a job. I figured teaching about World Religions is right up his alley and they needed a guy, so.”

Dean stopped walking. “Wait.” He said, frowning. “Bloomington? Bobby, that’s a four-hour drive from here.”

“So?”

“ _So_? Dude barely knows how to navigate Walmart, and you’re throwing him into teaching academics in another state?”

Narrowing his eyes, Bobby turned to Dean, hands on his hips. “I think you’re underrating the guy, Dean. He was an angel.”

“He’s a baby in a trench coat!”

“He’s an adult bloke, Dean.” Scolded Bobby. “Sure, his social skills are barely there,” He pointedly ignored Dean’s _there-you-go_ look. “But we can’t coddle him. C’mon, it’s not like we’re throwing him out tomorrow, I’m not an animal. We need to drive there anyway, find the guy somewhere to stay and introduce him to the place, alright?”

Finally, Dean relented. “Fine.” He said, not entirely convinced. “But we’ll be talking about it over dinner.”

Watching Dean walk past him towards the house, Bobby hummed lowly in his throat, mentally running calculations, and going through Bloomington connections.

_Huh_.

Perhaps, he could work with this.

_Idjits_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bobby is their Dad and John should be hunted for sport. No, you cannot change my mind.
> 
> [Guys, if you can, and even if it's a keysmash, let me know what you think of this story so far. It's pretty much defined in my head (the entire thing, really) but I struggle to know if I'm capturing their personalities right.   
> Sometimes I think I miss the mark with Dean or make Bobby too touchy feelly /shrug]


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gets a job. Dean gets blindsided.  
> Bobby is a saint.

Sitting on the hood of the Impala, Dean took his time examining his surroundings.

Normandale Community College.

A massive brick building covered partially in glass walls. Students were everywhere, some eyeing him with interest, others with distrust. Dean thought of Sam with a pang, thinking back to how he had once fit in such an environment. He had been carefree, then. They both had, in a sense.

Young. Naïve.

Little did they know.

Cas and Bobby were in the building, somewhere. Meeting Bobby’s acquaintance and securing Cas a job.

A _job_.

As a World Religions teacher.

Dean suppressed a snort, not wanting to call more attention to himself. He was doing enough of that just by sitting alone in front of the building, on top of a muscle car. Like a creep.

It’s not that Dean doubted Cas’s capacity in any way; the man was a massive pool of information. It was just hard to see him as something other than an angel, blade in hand and glowing eyes, especially knowing how awkward he could get. But if he were to be honest with himself, if Castiel had to pick a career, then a World Religions teacher seemed to be the perfect fit.

Who better than a _literal_ Angel of the Lord to talk about _those_?

Those students would never know what hit them.

Pulling his jacket tighter around himself, Dean ran a mental checklist of everything they still had to do. First was meeting the contact: _check_. Or in progress, at least. Next up, set up Cas with a set of wheels.

Dean remembered how he had balked at Bobby when he’d said it: Bobby literally ran a _garage_. Why search for a car anywhere else? It made no sense, but Bobby had insisted on visiting another garage on the way back, and what could he do? Man was freaking stubborn. Dean knew better than to press.

Afterwards, lunch.

Then house hunting.

Blowing a breath, Dean stared at a small rip on his jeans. He had to admit he wasn’t looking forward to having to say goodbye to Cas. Guy had been a constant in their lives ever since he marched into that barn, years ago.

 _Hell_ , Thought Dean, _Dude’s my best friend, isn’t he?_

Sure, he’d often complain about Cas living up his ass but, when all was said and done, he missed the guy when he wasn’t there. Last week had cemented that, with the former angel bombarding him with questions about being human as he worked beneath the Impala, requesting tools every now and then and having Castiel hand him over the correct one, every single time.

That was Castiel, he guessed.

All the world’s knowledge compacted inside a nerdy, white alpha man, wrapped in the world’s rattiest trench coat.

As if summoned by his thoughts, both Castiel and Bobby walked out the building’s main entrance, weaving through the morning crowd. Dean startled then, a sudden explosion of sweet honey filling his nostrils before he recognized it as Cas’s scent. “Dean!” Maneuvering around a couple students, Castiel finally made his way towards the Impala, arms loaded with binders. He beamed the sunniest gummy grin Dean had ever seen on anyone’s face. “I got the job!”

Frozen in place by the sheer brightness of that smile, Dean stammered. “T-That’s great, Cas!” He hurried to help with the load, sliding off the car with a hop. _What the hell_. “What’s all this for?”

“That is the class’s curriculum. I will be teaching the second semester, in February. Until then, I must review everything that is being taught right now and then prepare my classes accordingly, so that Professor Fitzpatrick can review them ahead of time.”

“Who?”

“The responsible for the course and my tutor. I will be assisting in her classes in the following weeks, to be slowly eased into the trade.” Cas was positively oozing contentment, smelling of spring.

Smiling back like it was infectious, Dean made sure to secure the binders in the trunk with the utmost care under Cas’s careful gaze. “That’s amazing, Cas. You’ll do great.” He reassured. “What about the other teachers? They play nice?”

Castiel shrugged one shoulder. “I only met Mr. Bamana and Professor Fitzpatrick, but they were both _very_ considerate.”

Dean couldn’t help the snort of amusement that escaped him. “I’m sorry— Mr. _Banana_?”

A hand flew and smacked the back of the omega’s head, drawing a yelp. “Bamana.” Bobby admonished. “Don’t let him hear ya, either. Gabe would snap you in half.”

“He is a very corpulent man.” Agreed Cas.

Ah. The contact. “Yeah, sorry.” Dean apologized, still amused. “Let’s hope we never meet, though.”

“Smartass.” Tapping the impala’s hood, Bobby addressed the other two. “Now, we gotta run by that garage; Larson will be waiting for us by now.”

“Bobby,” Interrupted Castiel, hands in his pockets. He had gone all middle-class gentleman for the interview: jeans and a light blue henley, complete with a pair of loafers. Had it been anyone else, Dean would have made fun of them until the sun _set_. As it was, to Dean’s chagrin, it suited him. Not that he’d ever tell anyone. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t have gotten a car at your garage. Any would have been fine.” Cas reassured, sincere. “And depending on the distance of the lodgings we choose; I might even walk.”

Bobby decidedly avoided looking in Dean’s direction, feeling his burning stare on the side of his head. “Have I ever led you astray?” He asked. Cas shook his head, no hesitation. Looking at Dean, he glared until the other finally relented and shook his head too. “Then shut up and get in the damn car.”

Twenty minutes later and they were driving up a ramp towards a large building, crammed with vehicles in various states of disarray. As soon as Dean walked out of the impala, there was a sharp whistle. “Well, ain’t that a sight for sore eyes.”

The beta in front of them could only be described as lumberjack Santa.

Short, round, and white bearded, the man walked towards them clad in flannel and denim overalls. “What a beauty.” He sighed in a daze, ignoring everyone else. “1967 Chevrolet Impala, right?”

Dean preened as usual when it came to his Baby. “Yup. I keep her up and running myself.” He boasted, patting the black roof with care. “Rebuilt her from scratch once, too.”

That got the older beta’s attention. “You?” There was interest in the hooded, charcoal eyes. “If you ain’t pulling my leg, then you got serious skills, kid.”

“Oh, he ain’t pulling your leg.” Leaning out of the window, Bobby met the beta’s eyes. “Taught him myself.” Grinning like a shark, Bobby threw the door open and stood. “How ya been, Larson?”

 _Larson_ was quick to let out a groan at the sight of the other mechanic. “Slap my tits and call me Sally, not _you_ , Singer.”

“Ay, I take offense to that.”

“You should.” Turning back towards Dean and then seeing Cas get out as well, Larson offered a hand over the roof of the car to the two men. “Declan Larson.” Introduced the beta. He winced when Castiel squeezed his hand too hard, clearly putting his everything into this first impression. Dean gave Cas a furtive kick to let go. “Call me Dec. Not _you_.” He spat at Bobby. Then, Dec lowered his voice. “If this is about a hunt, we’re _not_ interested.”

“Wait— You a hunter?” Dean asked, eyeing Larson dubiously.

Dec scowled. “Oh, we doing assumptions now, are we?” He pointedly sniffed the air. Dean’s expression darkened. “Shall we talk about omegas in the hunting community, then?”

Immediately, the air thickened with both ozone and citrus. “Dean is the most competent hunter I know. You’d do well to remember that.” Said Cas firmly, staring the beta down while holding on to Dean’s forearm, having grabbed him the moment he moved. He had no doubt the omega would be throwing punches, should he let go.

“I was just making a point.” Dec stated but relented, given the oppressive miasma in the air. He even took a calming step back. “Got nothing against any designations. I _also_ know I’ve let myself go,” He patted his belly before pointing a chubby finger towards Dean in warning. “But don’t go and underestimate a man on his own doorstep. I _will_ get even.”

“Fair enough.” Said Dean eventually, scent receding as he settled down. He felt Cas’s do the same before his hand left him. “Sorry.” He was all sarcasm, though.

A grunt was his only reply.

Bobby eyed the two for a moment, unimpressed. “Y’all done being a bag of dicks?” Asked him, as he slipped his hand in his vest and took out a slip of paper. “It’s not a hunt. You’re retired and I respect that.” He reassured, watching Dec take it. “It’s an appointment.”

Immediately, Dec’s entire demeanor brightened. “Would ya look at that! Bobby Singer, coming to buy at my humble garage. What, there a shortage of rust buckets back at Ohio?” Waving them over, Dec started walking back inside.

“Eh, something like that. His first wheels,” Bobby said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder towards Cas. “Decided he should have options.” Shrugging, Bobby waved a nonchalant hand at the shop. “So, how’s business, Larson?”

Stopping in the middle of the shop, Dec let out a loud raspberry. Cas looked confused. “Yea, stop.” Pocketing Bobby’s paper, Dec turned to face him. “C’mon, Singer. We both know you can’t small talk to save your ass out of a vamp’s nest.” Bobby smirked. “Had to know it was too good— What is it that ya truly _want_ if it’s not a hunt?”

“I _really_ am looking for a car,” Assured Bobby, patting Cas’s shoulder. “But—”

“Uh-huh, there it is.”

Bobby jerked his head towards Dean. “I also want you to give this one a chance to prove himself.”

Dean startled. “ _What_?”

Bobby raised a halting hand and stared Larson down. “I know your classics expert bailed on ya. I saw the job opening online. This one,” And he pointed at Dean. “is the best you’ll ever find. Like I said, taught him myself. He’s been elbows deep in engines before his balls even dropped. Give him the job and you won’t get a complaint about his work, I guarantee it.”

Watching Dean’s ears go red with embarrassment at the unexpected praise and attention, Dec considered him. “You vouch for him?” Bobby nodded, no hesitation. Dec nodded back and jerked his head towards Dean. “Then c’mere, kid.”

Instead, Dean let the other walk a few steps ahead before turning on Bobby, eyes wild. “What the hell, Bobby?” He hissed. “What is _this_?!”

Squaring his shoulders, Bobby let Dean’s anger roll off him. He vaguely saw Castiel hurriedly following Larson, sensing their need for privacy. At last, he could read _some_ social cues. “I saw your job applications at the office, son. No, no— _Look_ at me.” He glared, holding the other’s gaze when he tried to look away. “ _Construction_ , Dean? For _scraps_?”

“I got the experience.” Dean argued, red in the face. “And with just a GED it’s not like I’ll be getting any betters deals!”

“Stop underselling yourself!” Bobby snapped, scent slapping Dean in the face with the ferocity of his temper. “Just cos your Daddy never saw past the brawn, doesn’t mean you ain’t smart as a whip!” Jabbing a finger on Dean’s chest, Bobby kept going. “You think I’m blind, boy?! _Just_ a GED? What kind of denigrating bull— You _worked_ your ass _off_ to get it, while working both at the garage and at all the other odd jobs ya kept ‘round town, trying to raise your little brother the best you _could_ , when it shouldn’t have been your responsibility in the first place! _I_ saw that. Not saying working in construction is somehow degrading or whatever but _Dean_ , you’re so much more than what you think you are.” Said Bobby, placing his hands on the omega’s shoulders and giving him a shake, desperate to get through. “I meant what I said, every goddamn word: you’re _good_ at this. Wouldn’t have bothered teaching ya all I knew if I didn’t think you were decent at it.” Letting the other go, he took a deep breath. “Nevertheless, I’m not _making_ ya do this. Hell no. This is a choice, Dean, not an order. If this is something you truly don’t wanna be doing, then we walk away, no questions asked.”

Dean was silent for a while, still stewing but trying to process. “Why here?” He asked at last, crossing his arms, defensive. “You own a _garage_ , Bobby. Could have hired me.”

“Yea, so I keep being told. While I’m sure you’d do great with oil changes every day in boring, old Sioux Falls, this,” Bobby threw his arm out. “Is where you’d _thrive_ , Dean. _Classics_.” He snorted. “Only classic back home is my coffee machine, dumbass.”

Narrowing his eyes, Dean studied the other for a beat. “… You’re setting me up.” He accused. “What I don’t know is _what for_.”

“Is it working?”

“So you _are_?”

“Hell yeah, I am.” Dropping the pretense, Bobby grew serious. “Don’t think I don’t see ya moping around the house when there’s a lull, Dean? There are memories everywhere, I know. I see them too. And if seeing Sam’s dumb law books on my shelves everyday hurts something fierce, or the scuff at the bottom of the stairs where he fell after his first hungover, then I can only imagine what they do to _you_.”

Working his jaw, Dean suppressed the urge to scream. Everyone kept _talking_ about Sam, kept trying to get him to open up, to _psychoanalyze_ _him_ — “I’d think you were going soft, talking so much about _feelings_ lately—” He spat, venomous.

“Well, I gotta, don’t I?” Snapped Bobby back, matching the tone. “Cos you freaking won’t!” Dean’s mouth closed with an audible click. Bobby took a deep breath, reigning in his temper. “You’re grieving.” He stated, daring the other to deny it. Dean didn’t, averting his eyes. “And I get it, okay? _I_ _get_ _it_. And cos I get it, I also know that sometimes you need someone to give you a push away from the edge. So yeah, I _am_ setting you up. For a fresh, clean start.” Said Bobby, with as much sincerity as he could muster. “There’s a job for you, here. A future. Castiel is here, too. You’d have support, should your stubborn ass agree to take it.”

“Yeah, did you ask him if he even wants me here? Or are you just _pushing_ me on him too, like freaking luggage?”

“I asked him, yeah.” Stated Bobby, glaring. “Said he’d be happy to. And I’m not _pushing_ you—”

Dean felt something truly ugly start to rise within him. “He _knew_ about this, then? About your freaking plan?”

“ _No_.” And it was the truth. “I just asked him if he’d mind have your grumpy ass around. He gonna be alone too, Dean, he welcomes the familiarity. That’s it.” Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Bobby felt a headache coming. It was like arguing with a brick wall, going in circles. “Dean— _Fine_ , damn it. I get it. I sprung this on ya, and you don’t like it one bit. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you _think_?”

“Cut the fucking sass.” Staring a hole through the other, Bobby felt his patience stretch thin at Dean’s antagonism. “I’m not trying to write your story for you. I am not ordering you around or pushing you away.” And Dean’s scowl flickered, chipping at Bobby’s anger. _Son of a bitch_. “Dean, you _know_ it’s not that, right?”

“Right.”

“—Ya freaking _idiot_.”

Pulling Dean into a hug, Bobby squeezed him until the other stopped struggling to get away. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, what the _hell_ kid.” He grouched. Should have guessed, given the number John had done on the kid’s self-esteem. Some days, Bobby wished he had shot him when he had the chance. “I just _care_.”

Dean softened under Bobby’s arms before he pulled back with a sharp sniff. “I know you do.” He said, slipping his bravado back on. Rubbing his face, Dean was suddenly exhausted as the anger left him. “It was just outta nowhere, Bobby.” Explained Dean. “Should have given me a heads-up, first.”

“Would you have thought about it if I did?” Dean’s silence was answer enough. “Yeah, thought so.” Looking over to where Larson was showing Cas a car Bobby was sure he knew nothing about, he let Dean have a moment to mull it over. “I just wanted to give you options.” Said Bobby, feeling more than seeing Dean turn back towards him. “Lord knows you haven’t had many of those, these past years.”

A sigh. “Yeah, I get it.” And that was that, water under the bridge. Dean clapped a hand down on Bobby’s shoulder. “Thanks. And uh—” He fidgeted, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m sorry.” And this time, Dean meant it.

“Yeah, well— First, let’s hope we didn’t scare Larson off.” Bobby snorted but quickly turned serious again, turning to look directly at the other. “I said what I said, though: only if you want to.”

Considering, Dean bit the inside of his cheek. Sure, he had applied for a couple construction jobs but had yet to hear anything back about any of them. He _was_ still in the market for a job. If Dec’s offer was good enough… “Let’s hear what he was to say.” He decided.

Taking off his cap and smacking Dean in the arm with it, Bobby grinned, pleased. “Atta boy. C’mon then.”

Looking up when he heard the others approach, Cas all but sagged in relief. His eyes were wild. “I don’t care about anything he’s saying.” He said bluntly, almost desperate. “I am, how do you say— _Bored to tears_.” Complete with quotation marks.

Smacking Castiel on the arm, Dean wished for the ground to swallow them both when Larson began sputtering in outrage. “ _Dude_.” Clearing his throat, he put on his best hustling smile. “Excuse him, he’s foreign.”

Cas titled his head. “Technically—”

“Anyway,” And Dean was back to talking, giving the other a _look_. “About that job offer. Hit me with it.”

Dec was still fuming a little but decided to let it go, pointing behind the omega’s shoulder. “First, Buick near the wall. Was already working on it when y’all got here but,” Crossing his arms, the beta smirked. “Finish it and then we’ll talk.”

Turning, Dean completely forgot what he had been mad at Bobby for. Something beautiful was looking right back at him, black and shiny and looking utterly pitiful, hood open and parts strewn around behind a couple modern, _lesser_ vehicles. “1987?” Dec hummed in affirmative. “We talking about the GNX, right? _Please_ , tell me it’s the GNX you want me to fix.”

Humming again, Dec had to admit the kid at least knew his muscle cars. “Got until these two decide on a set of wheels, kid. Better get to it.” And Dean scampered off.

By the time Bobby and Cas decided on a car and had finished haggling over it, Dean was closing the hood to the Buick with a sharp slam. “Done?” Called out Dec from the other side of the shop, tucking away paperwork. Instead of answering, Dean slipped into the driver’s seat and turned the key, bringing the car to life with a loud purr. “Would ya listen to that!” Waving him over, the short man turned back to his desk and pulled out some forms. “What was it?”

“If you wanted to see what I could do, should have given me something better than a faulty transmission.” Answered Dean as he neared, cleaning his hands on a rag.

“No one likes a smug bastard, son.” Dec warned but his eyes were mischievous. Brandishing the papers in his hand, he became serious. “Here’s what I got. You start on a three-month apprenticeship. Monday to Friday, 7am to 4pm. $40 per hour. Make it past it, you get hired as a line mechanic and we up it to $45.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, looking around. The place was clean and relatively filled with cars, meaning work wouldn’t be slow. He didn’t know Larson yet and had already gotten into a scuffle with him, which didn’t bode well, though. “Designation going to be a problem?” He asked, wanting it out of the way from the start.

“Like I said, I ain’t got a problem with it.” Dec scoffed. “Don’t care what you are, so long as you do your job right and pull your weight around here.”

“And your patrons?”

“They won’t care, if they get what they came here for.” Extending a hand, Dec narrowed his eyes in a challenge. “We in business?”

Ignoring the hand, Dean looked over Dec’s head at Bobby, raising an eyebrow. Bobby gave him a tiny nod back. Relieved that the offer was legit, Dean still pushed his luck. “$50.”

“Still gotta go through that three-month period, kiddo. Then we can bargain to your heart’s content.”

A beat.

And Dean nodded, taking the offered hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt like pulling teeth, cos it was all about that world-building /jazz hands
> 
> It meant looking at google maps, trying to figure out usa geography and looking up muscle cars and technical jargon and heck, look up all I could about Bloomington. That college is real. Hell, the people are real - yes, even Mr. Bamana. 
> 
> No, it wasn't just a cheap pun from my part /pained sigh
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't know any of these people. Declan is an OC; only the faculty ppl were based off real-world employees of the college but names ONLY. I never meant any disrespect, at ALL. should any issues arise over it, I will change the names, no problem.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas apologizes for not telling Dean about Bobby's surprise, then viciously pulls the rug from under him.   
> Dean is has Self-Esteem Issues™ the size of the Chrysler Building.  
> Pray for Bobby.

“I’d like to apologize.”

Pausing on the way to take a bite out of his burger, Dean looked at him. Cas fidgeted under the gaze, having yet to try his own food. He had been trying to find a moment to make an apology and now, with Bobby having left their table to go to the restroom, it was the perfect moment. “I am sorry,” He started. “For the deception. Bobby asked me not to tell you about his inquiries, but I never thought this is what he had in mind.”

Putting his food down, Dean reached for a napkin and wiped his hands. “Look, I’m not gonna say I wasn’t pissed when he sprung that on me.” Cas pressed his lips into a thin line, nodding. “I’m a grown ass man. To have Bobby setting me up like my life is a playdate, then finding out you _knew_ —”

“Only to an extent. Dean, I swear—”

Dean raised a placating hand. “Bobby told me he only asked you if you were okay with having me around. I know, it’s just— It was just a lot, too suddenly.” Shrugging a shoulder, Dean tried to explain. “Guess it felt like he was trying to get rid of me. Dunno, it was stupid, in hindsight.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Retorted Cas, so very sincere. Dean looked away. “Besides, Bobby would never do that.” He reassured, leaning forward in his seat. “He simply cares about you.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean swiped a hand over his eyes, mildly embarrassed. “Just no more surprises. Think I had my fill for today.”

“Of course.”

Fidgeting for a beat, Dean blurted out. “So, are you?” Cas squinted at him, confused. “Okay with having me around?”

Softening, Cas tilted his head. “Of course, I am, Dean. We are family, are we not?”

Flushing to the tips of his ears, Dean fumbled with his napkin. Jesus Christ _, what the hell_. Why did the other have to look so goddamn earnest all the time? “Yeah, course we are, Cas. I just— You’re getting used to being human, ya know? Don’t want to hover. Step on your toes, and all that.” He shrugged. “If you want, we could even get you somewhere to stay in town while I look for something on the outskirts, it’d be fine if you wanted space—”

“We’re not sharing?”

Falling silent, the two men looked at each other in various states of surprise. “S-sharing?”

His time to turn red, Cas looked down at the table in embarrassment. “I thought we’d be sharing accommodations. It _is_ more cost efficient and when Bobby asked…” Castiel trailed off, fidgeting. He couldn’t seem to be able to look directly at Dean, a clear sign he was uncomfortable, when all he normally did was look people in the eye to the point of intimidation. “I’m sorry, I presumed too much.”

Dean stared at his fries.

Castiel thought – _hoped_? – they’d be living together.

Did he want that?

For a long time, he’d been on his own. Sam had gone to college and cut off all contact with him, then Dad had decided he was old enough to hunt on his own and left. It wasn’t easy, but he did it. Then Dad went missing, Sam came back, and suddenly, he couldn’t sleep fitfully without the sound of another’s breathing in the near vicinity.

Co-dependency was a bitch.

Still, Dean figured he and Cas were always going to be living in different spaces but keeping in touch, maybe have movie night occasionally… Not stay under the same roof.

Though, he did have a point.

It _would_ be cost efficient.

Still. “Not saying that it’s a bad idea or even a good one,” Dean started, meeting Castiel’s eyes. “But if we _were_ to live together— You realize that would require some major maneuvering between us sometimes, right?”

Cas blinked. “Maneuver— why would we get a house where we couldn’t move? We’d buy one that was big enough for the both of us, Dean.”

Dean sighed, closing his eyes. “No, I meant—” And he hesitated, slightly uncomfortable, placing a hand on his nape. “You know omegas have heats and alphas ruts, right?” Cas nodded. “Well, we’d have to work around those. We aren’t— I mean— We’re not in a— We aren’t _mated_ , Cas.” Said Dean at last, flustered. And wasn’t that something. “Not like we could be there for each other or whatever. We’d have to have somewhere specific where we could spend those days without stepping on each other’s toes.”

Castiel was silent for a moment, contemplating. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” He started, brow furrowed and leaning forward almost into Dean’s plate. “But usually ruts and heats are manageable, right? Some mild mood swings and generally heightened libido?”

Resting his face on a hand, Dean tried to ignore how warm it was. Dear Lord, let no one hear them. Not like this was a talk to be having in public, in the middle of a family diner. “Usually, _yeah_ , but I figure your first rut will be an eye opener, buddy.”

“Why?”

“Cos you’ve _never_ had one. It’s one thing to know about them and another completely different to experience it, especially if you live with an omega. My scent will be everywhere, it’ll make things— difficult.”

Cas looked almost crestfallen, staring forlornly at his plate. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Cas—” And then Castiel looked at him, all wide blue eyes and titled head and _Jesus fucking CHRIST._ “C’mon man, don’t look at me like that.” Grumbled Dean, reaching out to push Cas away.

Grabbing the hand on his shoulder, Cas brought it down to the table but refused to let it go, covering it with his other one. “Dean,” And there he went again, making that face _again_ , completely ignoring their proximity or so aware of it he was using it as a weapon. Dean gave a small pull. Cas didn’t let go, looking like he was about to tell him the meaning of life. Dean wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, but I didn’t know how to explain. I’d like to try.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel—” And Cas hesitated, eyes wide. Dean couldn’t decide if he looked terrified or floored. “I _feel_.” He stated firmly, squeezing the hand between his own. “And what, I can’t put a name on just yet.”

“Cas—”

“I rebelled for _you_. All I did, I did for you. Not because you were my charge, although it began that way. The moment I laid eyes on your soul in Hell,” Cas looked for the right words, feeling how tense Dean was in his grip. “I was _mesmerized_. In so much _pain_ , so fractured, but so _bright_ , Dean. Your soul radiated _love_ , even after forty years of torture. I touched you and your soul just melted into my grace. I felt _worthy_.” Pausing, Cas titled forward a touch, smiling crookedly at the other. “Then I actually met you and you stabbed me after emptying a magazine on my chest.”

Dean couldn’t help the small snort that escaped him. He thought of making a joke, mention how Bobby had helped with the shooting, but it felt wrong, to interrupt. His heart was beating in his ears.

“Dean,” And Castiel continued, face open and soft. “Ever since I’ve lost my wings, I’ve been learning about these feelings; how to categorize them and recognize them. I care about— _everything_. The world, the people in it: I _care_. I care about the waitress, who smiled when we walked in. The small family we walked past, the child who waved. I care about Bobby, who took me into his home. But Dean, I care about _you_ , in ways I cannot _understand_.”

“Cas.” And this time Dean whispered, heart dropping to his throat. _Oh shit. Oh fuck_. _What the hell—_

“But I want to _—_ Understand, I mean. The thought you might get hurt while I cannot do anything to aid you haunts me every day to the point of madness. The day you tripped in the junkyard? All I could think about was the twenty-two different ways you could have fallen and died.”

“That’s a tad excessive, dude.”

“But true.” Cas countered, serious. “Humans are fragile. They could break so easily and yet, every day, they defy their limits for— _fun_. It’s maddening. Fascinating.”

“Cas— Like you said, we’re family.” Dean tried to justify, wiggling his fingers. Cas kept holding on. “You were just worried, it’s normal. Maybe not over such lil’ things but yeah, _normal_.”

“No, it is not.” Replied Cas, eyes growing soft. “Dean, I don’t know what to name it yet. What I do know is that you mean so much, _too_ much to me. As such,” He rubbed his thumb against Dean’s wrist, right over his scent gland. Dean held his breath. “I’d like to find out what it is. With you and with your permission.”

Dean was frozen, staring as Castiel sat there, like he hadn’t just completely flipped the foundation of their relationship upside down. “Shit, Cas.” He muttered, swallowing hard. “You trying to proposition me or something?” Dean tried to laugh it off, falling back on humor as a defensive mechanism.

Castiel, however, had no such qualms. “Yes.”

Dean stared.

Someone cleared their throat.

Like he was burned, Dean snatched his hand back. Looking almost apologetic, Bobby stood to the side, eyeing them both. Suddenly, both Dean and Cas realized most people in the diner were staring at them, expressions varying from interested to pained at having to be witnesses to the world’s most awkward mating ritual. To makes matters worse, Dean realized with mortification that their scents were all over the place, cloying the atmosphere.

Grabbing his wallet, he threw a couple bills on the table and promptly fled, a couple muffled words thrown Bobby and Cas’ way about how he’d be waiting outside.

Bobby rubbed his forehead, fighting back a headache.

Of course, shit would hit the fan the moment he turned his back on those two idiots.

Sitting back down beside Castiel, the older alpha clapped a hand on the other’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “C’mon kid.” He said gruffly. “Eat your food. Give him time to process, aight?”

Castiel was silent, staring at his fries before shoving one into his mouth. “Did I make a mistake?” He asked, clenching his hand into a fist. He could scent Dean on his fingers.

“Uhh—” Bobby paused, beer on his lips. Well, Jesus, Mary and fucking Joseph too, how do you answer _that_? “Honestly? I got no idea. Not sure a love confession in a diner is the most romantic thing in the world but—”

“Love?”

Not for the first time, Bobby is reminded of how lost Castiel truly is in their dumb, little world. Kid was looking at him like he had the answers to world hunger, when _he_ was the celestial being. He had no idea what he had just said. Bobby sighed. “Ahh geez, kid.” He motioned for the other to keep eating. Castiel didn’t budge. Bobby cursed. “Some things you gotta figure out on your own, Cas. This is one of them. I can’t tell you what you’re feeling, nor do I want to.”

“That’s not helpful at all.”

Bobby snorted. “Welcome to humanity. Now eat your goddamn food.”

Contrary to what he’d said, Dean was not outside.

Or he was, just not in the parking lot.

No, he was far down on the other side of the road, staring down at a small river. Picking up a rock, Dean sent it skipping across the water.

He told Cas that he had had enough surprises for a day.

Then the guy went and basically told him he was in _puppy love_ with him.

Yeah, _puppy love_ , cos he had no idea what the hell he was feeling. _Let’s figure it out together, Dean,_ said the mocked-up version of Castiel in Dean’s head.

Dean bet it was gas.

Biting back a frustrated growl, he threw another rock and forced himself to calm down, to think it through.

Rewind: Cas, a billion-year and then some old, became human, a little more than a week before. Before that, he had started to experience feelings, which led him to doubting his divine mission. Now that he was no longer just a wave of celestial intent, he was starting to be able to put names to those feelings. He mentioned caring for people, Dean included, but that the care he experienced for Dean was different than what he felt for others and he wanted to find out what it meant, with _his_ help.

Dean sat on a rock and buried his face in his hands.

He was screwed.

Inhaling deeply, Dean stilled. He lifted his head. Sniffing again, he followed the scent of honey to his wrist and startled.

Castiel had scent marked him.

_What the hell, what the hell, **what the hell** —_

Giving in to the feeling, Dean threw his head back and let out a shout. Birds flew, some people near the road cursed in shock and he did not give a single _fuck_. Instead, he flopped back onto the dirt, amidst the fallen leaves.

First, Cas gives him a whole speech in the middle of a diner. Then scent marks him? Sure, it wasn’t _permanent_ , it would fade with time, but did he do it on purpose? If so, that crossed so _many_ lines Dean didn’t even know where to start.

Still, he lifted his arm and glared at his own wrist, sniffing the air again.

Angry or not, Dean knew Castiel well enough to know that he probably didn’t do it on purpose. Scenting was reserved for couples, a way to let others know that while someone was not mated, they weren’t available either. Cas probably didn’t even know he had done it.

Eventually, Dean’s mind slowed and narrowed it all down to a single question: what the hell was he telling Castiel after this?

First off, right off the bat: Castiel was _insane_.

So many men and women and others in the entire planet and Cas looks at him, doesn’t even look anywhere else, and decides _yes, this is the one I want, please wrap him up_?

Castiel, certified Angel of the Lord, had terrible taste.

Dean couldn’t even begin to create a list of what was wrong with him: he was damaged, he had Issues™, he was as prickly as a cactus and had the table manners of a neanderthal. Now he had a job, sure, but it was not secure, so he did not have any plans that went further than what to have for dinner that day. Plus, the list of enemies he would have after him if word got out that he was living an apple pie life somewhere was a mile long. Cas should be running for the hills. Hell, he wasn’t even an omega worth his salt, with his constant struggling against the restraints of his designation.

If anything, hate and anger fueled him.

Yet all Castiel seemed to have seen was love?

“Yeah, okay…” Muttered Dean, glaring at the treetops above him.

_Love_.

Sure, sounded like Dean Winchester, all right.

Still, a little part of him nagged him.

Dean wasn’t blind. Hell, if his personal record was any indication, he was very sharp eyed when it came to potential love interests.

Cas _was_ an attractive guy. Terrible fashion sense and even worse posture, but he was good looking. Hiding his eyes behind an arm, Dean had to admit he had had his fair share of not so innocent thoughts about the other.

He had let it slip that day, down at Bobby’s panic room. Given Cas a nudge.

_Last person who looked at me like that? I got laid._

Castiel slammed the door on his face.

So, Dean thought Cas wasn’t interested and moved on. Easier to hide dirty fantasies from an actual Angel that way, anyway, but now Cas _felt_ and wanted to pursue _something_ , and he wasn’t sure what _he_ wanted anymore.

As if that wasn’t enough, it wasn’t even attraction they were talking about anymore. Not a _wham bam thank you ma'am_ kind of situation in which they got it out of their systems and went their way, problem solved.

Again, and Dean was having some difficulty wrapping his head around it: _Castiel wanted to pursue_ _something_.

A relationship?

Perhaps the apple pie life he had promised Sam he’d live for his sake.

Dean inhaled, the sweet scent of honey filling his nostrils. Castiel was his best friend. As he’d said many times before, he was family.

Did he love the guy? No. Not romantically. Not yet.

Could he? One day?

Perhaps.

And now Dean had to decide if he wanted to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my notes, all we were going to get this chapter was a quiet lunch, some bonding, house hunting... Then Castiel parted the clouds, descended from the heavens and punched me in the solar plexus before fucking off again to Heaven.
> 
> I figure this Cas, who has yet to go through the guilt of the Leviathan and everything else, would be a lot more open about what the hell was going on with him, hence why he just takes the plunge. In the middle of an ordinary diner. When his date's Dad is just coming back from the bathroom.  
> At least buy him some flowers, YOU DEGENERATE.   
> LIGHT A CANDLE OR SOMETHING.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas talk it out and reach an agreement.  
> A house is bought.  
> Keep praying for Bobby.

By the time Dean returned to the parking lot, Bobby and Cas were already there, waiting.

“Where the hell were you?” Bobby barked; arms crossed tightly across his chest. He looked like he wanted to strangle Dean with his bare hands but refrained.

“Just went for a walk.”

“Well, next time you’re on a _walk_ , maybe warn the other people you’re with?”

Patting his empty pockets, Dean figured he had left the device in the car. He didn’t mention it tho, turning to Cas instead: the alpha’s face was blank, but began to smell apprehensive under the scrutiny. “We need to talk.” The scent intensified as Castiel nodded, resigned. “Bobby, mind taking the wagon?” Dean asked, pointing at the [tan monstrosity](https://bringatrailer.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/1984_jeep_grand_wagoneer_1593745133804b64dbb6001-exterior.jpg?fit=940%2C627) they had bought for Cas.

Favorite colors being blue and yellow his ass.

Dude thrived on _beige_.

Bobby narrowed his eyes and looked at Cas, waiting for his confirmation. With the keys in hand, the older man grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him aside for a moment. “Hey,” And he let go, patting the arm instead. “Whatever you gonna say—”

Dean rolled his eyes, uncomfortable. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll try and be nice, not break him or whatever.”

“Shut up.” Deadpanned Bobby, scowling. “Whatever you gonna say, make sure you do it for _you_.” He said, stabbing Dean in the chest with an authoritative finger. Dean blinked, surprised. “I know Castiel put himself out there, put you in a tough spot, but whatever you decide to do, you do it thinking of yourself. What’ll make _you_ happy. Cas is a big boy; he can take it.”

Releasing some of the tension in his shoulders, Dean glanced over Bobby’s shoulder at Cas, watching him inspect the concrete beneath his feet with quiet intensity to give them privacy. “What do you think?” Asked Dean, looking back at Bobby. “I mean, you gotta have an opinion, right?” He mumbled, uncomfortable but curious.

To Dean’s surprise, Bobby rolled his eyes so emphatically he might have seen the back of his head. “Not you _too_.”

“You mean Cas—”

Clapping his hands into a praying motion, Bobby shook them towards Dean. “I am not touching this subject with a ten-feet pole. You’re both grown ass men. Sure,” And Bobby softened a touch, but still looked mildly inconvenienced. “You’re my kids, ya idiot, but I can’t be answering these questions for you. You both need to talk and decide amongst _yourselves_ , no outside intervention needed, damn it.”

Dean fidgeted. “Yeah, okay.” He said at last. “You’re right. Just,” He scratched below his ear, clearing his throat. “Drive ahead, okay? I know the first address; we’ll meet you there. This might… take a while.”

Patting Dean’s shoulder again, Bobby walked past him. “Just don’t take too long, realtor won’t wait forever.”

“Yeah, sure.” Waving over his shoulder, Dean walked back towards Cas after a grounding exhale. Time to face the music. “C’mon.” Unlocking the car, Dean got comfortable in the driver’s seat while Castiel carefully settled in the passenger’s, closing the door with a soft thud. As if he would set Dean off if he closed it with his usual vigor. Dean sighed. “So,” And if he noticed Cas stiffen further, he chose to ignore it. “We need to get something out of the way, first.” Dean lifted his right hand. “Did you do this on purpose?”

Cas frowned, a squinty, confused thing. “Do what, exactly?” Dean thrusted his arm towards the other, allowing him to touch. Cas did so hesitantly, holding Dean’s hand gingerly, before he looked at it, turning it gently. “I do not understand.”

“Just— smell it, Cas.” Castiel looked at him strangely. Dean flushed. “You _scent marked me_ in the diner.”

“What?” Shoving his nose against Dean’s flesh, Cas inhaled deeply. He startled. “Oh. _Dean_. Dean, I did not mean— I am so _sorry_ —”

“So, it wasn’t on purpose?”

For a moment, they both stared at each other, in silence. Then, Castiel looked thunderous, proverbial wings ruffling in anger. Dean could have sworn his hair fluttered. “Of course, it wasn’t! I’d never do something this intimate without your permission!” Dropping Dean’s hand, Castiel glared, eyes flashing. “In case you have forgotten, not too along ago I was an _Angel_. All our laws require _consent_. My grace might be gone and I’m fully aware that I’m barely a functional human, but my moral compass is _intact_!”

Glaring back, Dean bit the inside of his cheek and fought not to become defensive. It would help no one. “Well, I’m glad then, cos if it had been on purpose, you would have crossed _so_ many lines, dude.”

“It was an accident.” Cas repeated angrily, refusing to let Dean look away.

Raising his hands placatingly, Dean finally relented. “Okay, okay.” He was done being petty, anyway. “I believe you. It was just a shock, okay? It was the last thing I was expecting after—” Dean made a vague motion with his hand, dragging his eyes away to the dashboard.

Castiel wasn’t about to let it go. “After what?”

“You know _what_.”

“Were my words so repulsive that you can’t even name them?”

“ _What_ —” Startling, Dean snapped his eyes back to the other’s. Cas was no longer fuming but stewing in quiet anger instead, something like hurt brewing underneath it all. “Cas.” Breathed Dean, running his hands up his face and into his hair. He found a dry leaf in it. He chucked it out of the window. “It wasn’t repulsive. At all.”

“Then why can’t you look at me in the eyes when you say it?”

“Cos I dunno how to! _Hell_ , I have no idea what to _say_. Or I know but not how to begin. _Jesus_ , this is—” Drumming his fingers against the wheel, Dean forced down the urge to turn on the radio and drown the thoughts screaming in his head. Instead, he gripped the worn leather and took a deep, calming breath. “Listen—” And Cas did, but not before he gave him his patented squinty glare. Maybe Dean wasn’t the only one feeling defensive. “Here’s the thing,” And Dean laid the cards on the table, exposing his soul. “I’ve flirted with you. Hell, I wasn’t even very subtle. And every time, you brushed it aside.”

Cas squinted harder. “… What?”

Dean had to summon every ounce of his strength not to roll his eyes right in front of Cas and destroy whatever progress they had made. “Are you really going to make me— Yeah, I guess you are.” He deadpanned as Cas titled his head, confused out of his mind. Clearing his throat, he began to list. “The looks? How every time you got into my personal bubble; I couldn’t resist looking at your lips?” Just like he was doing _now_ and _gosh freaking damn it_ , look him in the eye instead, Winchester! “The touches, the flirty jokes, the—C’mon! I kept pulling on your pigtails and you punched me in the face _every_ time, Cas.”

Leaning back in his seat, Castiel was confusion personified. “Punch— You mean when I beat you up in the alley?”

“ _No_.” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “It’s a _figure of speech_ , Cas. It means I kept subtly throwing hints at you about being interested in your oblivious ass and you _never_ _reciprocated_. I thought you weren’t interested, man.”

Nodding slowly, Castiel looked as if he was going through every interaction they ever had through a different perspective. Knowing how his mind worked, Dean could bet that he _was_. Gradually, his ears began to redden. “ _Oh_.” Said Cas, in the end.

Energy spent, they both sat awkwardly inside the Chevy, digesting thoughts, and feelings. “Look, Cas,” Began Dean, after a moment. “I can’t tell you that what you said didn’t rattle me a little.” He confessed. “I never had a _relationship_. Flings, yeah; one-night stands, _hell yeah_. But actual relationships?” Dean snorted. “Maybe one and she dumped me the moment she learned what I actually did for a living.”

“Dean—”

“No, listen,” And Dean turned to face Castiel fully, wanting him to understand. “I know what you said back at the diner. I heard you. Really, I did, and I still have no idea why you’d choose me. I don’t know how you can see me the way you said you did, after all the bad I’ve done. Still,” And Dean paused, throat working as he swallowed nervously. He didn’t even know _why_ he was nervous. This was Cas. Despite everything, it had always been easy to talk to Cas, philosophical differences aside. “I say okay.” He said, going for nonchalant. “We try this.” And he waved a hand between them, feeling his face begin to match the color of Cas’ ears. “Figure it out as we go, but Cas— I don’t know what’ll happen. Yeah, I’m— _interested_. I have been for a while, but I can’t promise it’ll work out. I can’t promise you that I’ll fall in love with you at the end of the line or that you’ll keep feeling the way you do until then, cos I will annoy the shit out of you sometimes, I _assure_ you. I’ll piss you off and say crap I don’t mean and then apologize and it’ll be a vicious circle cos it’s all I’ve ever known, but what I _can_ promise you is that I’ll _try_.” And then Dean let out a breathless chuckle, running a hand down his face and feeling how warm it was in embarrassment. “I mean, if you don’t feel like running for the hills now, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence before a wave of honey fragrance washed over Dean, two hands briefly coming into his line of sight before he felt his face being cradled between them. Frozen, Dean held his breath as Cas leaned closer and _closer_ and he could feel his breath on his face—

Dry lips pressed to Dean’s forehead, right above his right eyebrow, and Dean _melted_ , feeling tension he hadn’t known he was holding on to bleed out of him. His eyelashes brushed Cas’s chin as they fluttered closed and then the other was pulling away, giving him the same gummy grin from outside the college. “I’m not running.” Replied Cas, soft and _happy_. “And I’m never asking for more than what you can give, Dean. Yes, we’ll try. If we succeed, good. If not, we’ll cherish what we had.” Letting go of the omega’s face, Castiel took his hands instead. “I know it’ll be difficult. We’ll have to work hard at this with each other, every day, but I’m willing to do so, if you are too.” Dean nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Repeated Dean, at a loss for anything else to say.

They stayed like that for a bit, Dean’s heart in his ears and his hands in Cas’s, unsure of how to proceed. Soon, Dean’s phone answered for them, ringing from the glove compartment.

Knowing exactly who it was, Dean reached it and rejected the call, sending a quick text before straightening in his seat. “We should get going.” He said, almost apologetic, as he put the keys in the ignition.

Cas nodded his agreement before pausing. “What do we do about our living arrangements?” He hadn’t forgotten Dean’s arguments, which were valid.

Bringing the Impala to life, Dean savored the familiar vibrations before taking another leap. Hell, his life was already taking a turn, why not go all the way and do a backflip instead? “Normally, humans start the actual relationship before moving in together but,” Shrugging a shoulder, Dean pulled out of the parking lot and into the open road. “When have we ever been normal?”

The first two addresses were a bust.

One had been rented already; the other way too small for two grown men to live in.

Standing before the third, Bobby huffed beside Cas’s wagon. “Realtor’s late.” He grunted, shoving his phone in his pocket, and pushing away from the car to meet the others by the sidewalk.

“We still have time.” Soothed Cas, eyeing the small house in front of them with distrust. The wind whistled somewhere through it, making a racket. “We saved some time on the first one.”

“Could have saved more if you hadn’t taken forever and a _freaking_ half gettin’ there.”

Rolling his eyes at the jab, Dean straightened from where he had been leaning against the Chevy and went to Cas’s rescue, watching the alpha sputter through an apology. “Lay off, Bobby.” He warned, giving him a look before moving to stand besides Castiel. Looking at the house, he wrinkled his nose in distaste as well. “Might be more work than it’s worth.”

“Maybe.” Bobby had to agree.

Looking around, Dean at least found the neighborhood pleasant. The houses were few and spaced between each other and there were plenty of trees around, wind rustling through the leaves. Somewhere, water ran. Planning to give the house a look around, Dean started to walk down the sidewalk but stalled, something else catching his eye.

On the other side of the road, there was [another house for sale](https://ibb.co/gj09gcg).

Moving towards it, Dean eyed it with growing interest.

It seemingly had a single floor plan but a large window at the top suggested an attic, at least. The walls and the porch were made of dull red brick and light brown stones, though the foundations were made of wood. Good wood, Dean thought, carefully rapping his knuckles against one. Strong, durable. Obviously weathered but still respectable.

Through one of the windows, Dean saw that it was an open floor and his curiosity grew. Trying the door, he found it unlocked and didn’t think, walking inside and finding himself in a small hall. Dean quickly took stock of the massive brick and stone fireplace directly in front of him, built into the far wall.

Taking a small step forward, he looked at the wooden floors. They were old but the wood was solid: nothing some work and patience wouldn’t fix. Looking up, Dean saw the same on the tall ceiling. Around him, the walls were of a lighter lumber and were peeling, obviously having been neglected for years.

The house smelled and felt _old_.

Still, Dean felt drawn, looking around the living room. It was large, and through an arc on his left he saw a sizeable kitchen with an island. A branch was stuck through the windows, digging into the sink. Not a surprise, given the state of disarray the backyard looked to be in, filled with tall grass and old bark. Most of the cabinets were broken too, missing doors or entirely.

“Dean?”

Jumping, Dean was already halfway to grabbing a gun he didn’t have on when he noticed it was just Cas, looking around the devastated kitchen with mild interest. “Son of a bitch.” He muttered, glaring slightly. “Okay, rule number one of _this_.” Dean waved between them. “Make some noise, damn it.”

Castiel squinted at him but nodded, quietly amused. He turned back to the destroyed furniture. “This is not the house we were here to see.”

“No, it’s not.” Dean agreed, doing the same. “Still. Caught my attention.” He mumbled, looking around and seeing a door leading outside and to a path that he guessed took them to the backyard. Walking back to the living room, he saw a small set of stairs in the corner to the entrance’s right, leading to what he assumed was the attic he had seen outside.

On each side of the fireplace, there was a door. Curious, Dean walked to the one on the right and opened it, peering inside.

It was large, open room, empty save for a few broken chairs. Light bled into it, through the threadbare curtains still on the rods. It looked like it had the potential to be an office, but he couldn’t be sure.

Dean suddenly imagined Castiel in it, working on his classes.

There was a knot in his throat.

Quickly closing the door and moving to the one on the left, Dean walked into a small corridor, with two doors on the left and one at the end of it. Opening the first, Dean found an empty room, about half the size of the office and with carpet floors. Definitely a bedroom. _Definitely coming off too_ , he thought, eyeing the yellowed material with disgust.

Never mind that the house wasn’t _his_.

Next door was the bathroom. Most of it was in working condition but the tub was broken, and the walls were covered in a terrible orange tile that had the omega gagging. Even Cas made a strangled sound of revulsion from behind him.

Quickly moving on, he opened the final door and found another empty room, also with old carpet and more peeling wooden walls.

This one was different, tho.

Walking into it, Dean quickly found it to be bigger than the first one they saw. Unlike the office, sunlight flooded the room though the bare windows, allowing them to see clouds of dust as they moved.

But Dean didn’t care about that.

Walking to the furthest window, he looked outside.

There was a mid-sized body of water in the near distance, with a small dock down a pebbled path. There was even a small wooden gate at the fence, connecting with it.

To the opposite side, there was a small barn, which could easy be converted into a garage, large enough for two cars.

Dean felt Cas stand beside him, close enough for their shoulders to brush. Tentative fingers touched the back of his hand. “Dean?” The word was soft in the silence of the house. Outside, wind kept blowing, leaves rustling, water running.

“Yea?”

“I like this one.”

Unable to stop a lopsided smile, Dean turned his hand a little and hooked their pinkies together. “I like it too.”

They didn’t buy a house that day.

Realtor wasn’t available until the next, and they were missing paperwork, anyways.

But a few days later, a big, fat sold sign was on the front yard and the house was theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /cups hands around her mouth/ they're idiots, yoUR HONOR!!!!!!!!!  
> I sprinkled a couple links with references to Cas's car and the front of the house.  
> I might draw a quick something of how the house is inside, if I find the time.
> 
> Let me thank you all for your support; you make me so happy!! <3


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renovations are in motion.  
> Dean and Cas have domestic squabbles.  
> Bobby needs a direct line to the divine, at this point.

Moving in was easy.

Neither Dean nor Castiel had much, so a large duffle bag for each was enough.

Stepping into the house early in a windy morning, they quickly decided to start with the obvious: garbage removal.

With Bobby’s help and with his truck, they quickly rid the kitchen of the ruined furniture and covered up the broken windows with plastic bags, preventing the chilly autumn wind from getting inside until they could be fixed. Next, were the broken chairs in what was going to be the office and then— _it was time._

Standing in the corridor, both Dean and Cas evaluated their options as they listened to Bobby driving away with their first load of trash. “Know what? You can choose.” Decided Dean, with a small flourish. Cas glared. “What? I’m being considerate.”

“You just don’t want to pick one.”

“Well,” And Dean shrugged. “On one hand, we gotta rip off all that awful carpet that may or may not be hiding a skeleton or two underneath. On the other, we have a Cheeto passing as a bathroom to smash. So no, I don’t really want to choose.”

Cas squinted. “I doubt a corpse would fit beneath the carpet.” He said, looking dubious.

Flipping the hammer in his hand, Dean shrugged again. “Won’t know til we rip it off.” Still, he looked between the two bedrooms and the bathroom. As much as he liked to joke around, the decision was obvious. “Okay, fine. You do the carpet. I’ll deal with the tile. Can’t have you smashing the plumbing, anyway.”

Giving the other an apologetic wince, Cas huffed out a laugh. “Yes, that may be wise.” He conceded, looking around. “Perhaps we should ask Bobby to stay a while. I don’t have any idea how to help you with the renovations, Dean.”

And because it wasn’t the first time Castiel had talked about it, Dean let out a loud groan of annoyance. “Cas, I’ve told you a hundred times. It’s _fine_. The house doesn’t need much anyway, the kitchen and the bathroom are the only ones that need an overhaul. I’ll be fine.” He soothed.

Reaching out, Cas placed a hand on Dean’s left shoulder, right where his handprint had once been. “I just don’t want you to think you’re doing this alone. This is _our_ beginning. I want to be a part of it.”

“And you are Cas, either you’re smashing some tile or not.” Pacified Dean. “How about it: you let me worry about this,” And he waved around at the house. “And you worry about the jungle in both yards.”

Humming, Cas thought about it. “I _do_ have a greener thumb.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

Matters decided, Cas leaned and dropped a kiss to Dean’s temple before disappearing into the first room. Dean stayed in the corridor for a small moment, after. Ever since their talk in the Impala, Cas had been ramping up the touches.

A hand squeeze here. A hand on a knee there.

And the _kisses_.

Dean sighed, flustered.

If Castiel would plant a solid one on him... Dean was used to that kind of nonsense. Dean could _work_ with that. But instead, Cas kept dropping little – dare he say, _tender_? – kisses to his forehead and temples and even once to the back of his hand and _gosh freaking damn it_ , Dean felt like a Victorian lady being courted.

Which— he was, wasn’t it?

Feeling like he had just had a revelation, Dean all but tripped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Holy shit, he _was_.

Castiel was _courting_ him.

Afraid of crossing some line, waiting for _him_.

 _Consent_ , thought Dean. _He’s waiting for consent._

Dean buried his face in his hands and groaned softly, beginning to listen to the sounds of Cas ripping off the carpet. He was screwed. _So_ screwed. He didn’t know how to go slow, but he also knew that if they rushed it, they might screw it up.

Dean honestly did not want to screw it up.

With a deep breath, Dean decided to worry later and get to work now.

Tiles weren’t going to smash themselves and if it also worked as the perfect distraction, so be it.

The bathroom took Dean’s entire day.

The tiles were easy enough to remove (and Dean had flipped off the rubble as Bobby drove it away, the terrible color burned into his retinas) but he soon realized they would have to replace a lot of the plumbing, when he ripped off the tub and half of it came with it, rusty and crumbling.

By the time Dean was done with the area for the day, Bobby and Cas had gotten ahead and finished clearing the rooms of carpet, sanded both the wood paneling and the floors in them and moved to the living room, where they had discovered they would need to replace the entire paneling on the walls when Bobby had smacked it at lunch and a piece fell out, ruined by termites.

As it was, when night started to fall, they pulled out air mattresses and ordered pizza, too exhausted to do anything else. Or too dirty.

Sniffing at his shirt, Castiel groaned. “Maybe we should have gotten a room at a motel.”

Ignoring Bobby’s snort of amusement, Dean huffed out a groan from where he laid belly down in his own mattress. His back and arms were killing him. “Yeah, yeah, you told us so.” He grunted, unamused. “I never expected to _not_ have a functional bathroom at the end of the day.”

“It’s an old house, you idiot. It’s always gonna be more than you bargained for.”

“Yeah, well,” Rummaging through his duffel, Dean got a towel and threw it at Cas. The other glared from beneath the cloth. “Water is running at least, so use the faucet to give yourself a wash. It’s all we have for now.”

Cas eyed him. “What about you?”

“Already did what I could, it’s fine.” His hair was stiff from the tile dust and he was sure he still had dirt in places he couldn’t reach but Dean had had worse, so he didn’t care.

“Bobby?”

“You go first, kid. I’ll be fine.”

Nodding, Cas got up with a wince and retrieved some bodywash from his own duffel before disappearing, the sound of the door closing echoing across the empty house. Dean and Bobby sat there in silence for a moment, wind whistling softly outside. “You know, you really didn’t have to be here.” Dean said after a moment, slightly muffled against the towel he was using as a pillow. “Thanks, Bobby.”

“Like I’d miss you nesting for the first time.” Bobby snorted, huffing out a laugh at Dean’s indignant scoff. Softening, the older man took a swing of his lukewarm beer with a grimace before putting it down on the floor. “Hey.” Dean opened his eyes tiredly, looking at him with curiosity. “This truly what you want?”

Dean snorted, shifting to sit up. “Little late for that, Bobby. House is paid and signed for.” Property of Dean Campbell and Castiel Singer, no less. Cas had looked ready to cry when he saw the forged identity papers while Dean had groaned but understood. He _was_ legally dead. Taking his mother’s maiden name would have to do. As for the cash, it had come from a deposit his parents had left him and Sam, and partially from the funds Dean had been quietly syphoning off credit card scams and setting aside, hoping it would help his brother the day he inevitably croaked it on a hunt.

He hadn’t wanted to leave Sam with nothing but a car, so he saved what he could.

Now, Sam didn’t need it.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Choosing not to comment on the other’s pause, Bobby powered through. “I meant _this_.” And he waved between Dean and Cas’s separate air mattress.

Looking for a moment, Dean nodded. He met Bobby’s eyes, somewhat cautious at the confusion he saw there. “We talked. We decided to give it a try. Now,” A shrug. “We see where it goes. Slowly.”

“You do realize y’all are doing this in the wrong order, right? You go on a date first, not buy a house.”

Dean smiled, a lopsided smug thing. “Have you ever known us to be normal?”

Rolling his eyes, Bobby sighed. “I’m so tired of y’all.” He drawled. Still, he smiled, a small quirk of his lips, mostly hidden by his beard. “You’re both good kids and I love you, tho. I hope to see you guys succeed.”

“Me too.” Replied Dean, softly. He hesitated. “You’re the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had.” He confessed, a pang of guilt for his actual father but knowing in his heart it was the truth. “So, if you think you’re getting rid of me, of _us_ , you’re damn mistaken. It’s a four-hour drive, so I expect you to _always_ attend family dinner.”

“Family dinner, huh.”

“Every first Saturday of the month, yeah. You stay the night and then go home, too. We have the space, no need to drive home til ass o’clock.”

“Let’s hope you have the furniture too.”

“Wow, _dick_.”

Grinning, Bobby nodded. “I’m proud of you.” And he was, he really was.

Saved from answering as the doorbell rang, Dean got up with a groan. “Saved by the bell, _hell yeah_.” Dodging Bobby’s flailing hand, he got his wallet and soon was the proud owner of two enormous pizzas, which Dean placed on top of an empty toolbox.

They really needed some damn furniture.

As soon as Cas got back, they dug in and toasted with warm beer. “To surviving the night, may the ceiling not crash on our heads while we sleep.” Bobby joked, getting insulted by Dean, and watching as Castiel looked up, uneasy.

The ceiling didn’t fall.

“Cas, you’re _killing_ me.”

“Don’t be overdramatic.”

“ _Overdr_ — Cas, we just got rid of the world’s ugliest tile and now you want this on our kitchen?”

Tilting his head, Castiel gave Dean what he hoped was his softest look. “Dean, I’ve let you choose most of it. The white wood paneling for the living room—”

“It’s just easier to decorate with white walls—”

“The black cherry furniture for the rooms—”

“You liked it too, you _dick_ —”

“Even the sandstone tile for the bathroom and the stall—”

“Which you said, and I quote, _needed to have sliding doors cos you can’t stand wet shower curtains_ , like a snob—”

“And I understand Dean, I do, you’re nesting and that’s a natural reaction to moving to a new home—” At this point, Dean was bristling, ears as red as a tomato. “But _this_ ,” And Castiel pointed at the sunflower yellow tiles. “I need _this_.”

“You don’t even cook, Cas. I’m the one that’s going to be staring at that monstrosity every day.”

“Either we get the yellow tile or the taupe paneling for the living room.” Castiel stated, barely letting Dean finish his sentence. The other balked. “I am no longer asking, Dean.”

“Are you serious?” At Cas’s squinty glare, Dean sputtered. He _was_. Staring at the yellow atrocity, he tried to see what he could do with it. It was small tile, brick-like. Dean mentally reviewed their kitchen. Pointing a finger at Castiel, he tried to bargain. “We place this on the main wall with the sink, but we get it in white for the rest of it.”

Cas squinted further. “Then the cabinets will be golden oak.”

Dean glared back. Then extended his hand. They shook on it.

A couple feet away, arms loaded with wood varnish, Bobby groaned.

“Dean, _no_.”

Oh, Dean _yes_. “C’mon, Cas. I _need_ it. _We_ need it.”

“There are several other doormats that would be a better choice than that one.”

“But this one is _perfect_.”

Castiel eyed the doormat with apprehension. _Atheist and gay_ , it said. “But I am not an atheist and you’re not even gay, Dean. You’re bisexual.”

“I’ll let you choose the side of the bed.”

“You can have the mat.”

Dean fist pumped.

“At least, take the leftover pizza, Bobby.”

“Hell, no. You’re gonna need it, your appliances only get delivered tomorrow.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean watched as the older man threw a duffel into the passenger seat of his truck. “We can just order takeout again. It’ll be fine.” He said, thrusting the box towards the other.

“… Fine.” Taking the food, Bobby placed it in the car before slamming the door closed. “You two sure you can take it from here?”

Castiel nodded, smiling before walking into the older alpha’s arms. Unaccustomed to it, the former angel hugged with his whole body. Bobby groaned at the tight squeeze. “We’ll be fine. You’ve been a great help, thank you.”

“Eh, don’t mention it, kid.” Clapping Cas’s shoulder as he pulled away, Bobby was quick to pull Dean in as well. “Take it slow, okay? You need help, you call me.”

“Sure, Bobby.” Reassured Dean, patting the other on the back after a gentler squeeze. Letting go, he went back to leaning against the doorframe. Cas pressed their shoulders together. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure, Ma.”

Flipping the other off for the quip, Dean watched as Bobby pulled out of the driveway and drove away into the late afternoon, disappearing through the trees. Beside him, Cas tentatively rested a hand on the small of his back. “Cas.”

The hand vanished. “Yes?”

Pulling the other inside and closing the door after him, Dean eyed Castiel for a beat before reaching to grab both his hands and placing them on his hips. Cas stiffened, surprised at the move, but Dean just winked, trying to put him at ease. “You’re allowed to touch, Cas.”

Swallowing, the alpha still didn’t move. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Dean.”

“They way you act, so afraid to lay a hand on me, is what’s making me uncomfortable.” Reasoned Dean, pulling the other closer. Their chests pressed together, and he felt how Cas held his breath at the contact. Dean frowned, resting his hands on the other’s arms. “Am _I_ making you uncomfortable? Is this too fast?”

“No.” Cas was quick to say, shaking his head. Dean’s scent filled his nose, sweet and so uniquely him. He wanted to bury his nose in it and never let go but that would be _unpractical_. “I’m just— unsure of what could be considered too much. I don’t want to push your boundaries, Dean.”

“Let’s compromise, then. You’re allowed to touch. Got it?” Cas nodded. “If you’re afraid that it’s too much, you ask me about it first.”

“And you’ll let me know if it is alright?”

“Yeah.” Dean vowed. “Want me to do the same? Ask first, touch later?”

Considering, Castiel shook his head in the end. “You have a better understanding of human conduct. I trust you to know what to do and what not to do.”

“Boundaries are different for everyone, Cas. What I think is okay, can freak you out.”

“And I trust _you_.” Reaffirmed Castiel, finally giving the hips beneath his hands a gentle squeeze. Progress. “Trust _me_ to tell you when you cross a line too, alright?” Dean nodded and Cas smiled, a small quirk of his mouth. “Good. Let us order some food, then. I’ll check the fliers.” And then he was leaning in and Dean’s stomach flipped, thinking the other was finally going to properly kiss him.

He fluttered his eyes closed in anticipation.

Yet, Cas’s lips met his right cheekbone in another soft, tender kiss, only this time he lingered for a beat, nosing at his cheek before moving away.

Letting the other go, Dean opened his eyes and stared at Cas’s back as he riffled through take out options, secretly a little miffed. Oh, Dean _liked_ the little things. He did. He hated that he liked them too but somewhere deep inside him, his touch-starved ass was thriving with Cas’s little demonstrations of affection.

Still, Dean couldn’t help but want Cas to stop being so careful with him. He didn’t know what to _do_ with careful. With _loving_.

This was going to be a learning experience for both.

 _Baby steps, Winchester_ , Dean thought, letting it go.

_Baby steps._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas keeps driving Dean up a wall but doesn't know /shrugs/ or dOES HE.  
> Let me know how it's going! <3


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[WARNING: THINGS GET A LITTLE NSFW AFTER THE 2ND BREAK]**
> 
> Castiel's rut hits.  
> Larson begins to show his true colors.  
> A dam is broken.

Castiel’s rut hits a couple weeks later.

Dean wakes early in the morning, confused. It’s not unusual for him to wake in the middle of the night, still unused to the house’s sounds and Cas’s soft snuffles beside him, but it’s different, this time.

Usually, Cas sleeps like a dead man. On his back, on the left side of the bed, hands primly folded over his chest. Sometimes, Dean would shuffle across the king-sized mattress and press to his side, but Cas remained unchanged, still trying to navigate boundaries between them.

Other times, Dean would be lucky, and Cas would _boldly_ wrap an arm around his shoulders, allowing him to press closer.

Last night had not been one of those times.

Yet, Dean awoke to a warm mass pressing to his back, thick arms tightly woven around his middle. Peering at his alarm, he saw it wasn’t even five in the morning. As he tried to move out of the hold, Cas rumbled deep in his throat, face pressed to the curve of Dean’s neck.

Dean froze, any leftover traces of sleep slipping out of him.

Sniffing the air, Dean suppressed a rough groan, feeling goosebumps spread across his skin. Cas smelled _heavenly_ ; scent thick with his usual traces of honey and ozone but overpowered by something that could only be described as _want_.

Dean wanted to bite him. He knew then he had to get out of Cas’s hold.

They hadn’t discussed it.

So deep in the renovations and their new jobs, neither Cas or Dean had given their unique biological demands a thought, nor had they expected to be faced with them so soon. Then again, maybe Dean should have guessed it would happen sooner than later, with Castiel at the helm of a body that hadn’t gone through a rut in at least a year and a half.

Feeling Cas press tighter against his back, Dean began to try and free his body from the hold. It was hard and he had to fight his own growing desire, but he owed it to Castiel to contest it. “Cas.” Called the omega, voice hoarse. “Cas, you gotta wake up, buddy.”

Coming to slowly, the other groaned again, right in Dean’s ear. Usually, Cas already sounded like he gargled gravel but now, Dean felt that cavernous timbre deep in his _soul_. Feeling a hand begin to drop down his front, Dean fumbled to grab it and hold it in place against his chest. “ _Castiel_.”

Confused at the use of his full name, Cas lifted his head away from the other’s neck and stared him down. Even in the darkness of the room, Dean saw how his pupils were blown, how stiffly he was holding himself back. His hand flexed where it was being held down by Dean and Cas downright _growled_ his name, trying to break free.

Holding tighter, Dean was not proud of the needy sound that escaped him. Feeling himself grow slick, he knew he had to snap Cas out of it, or risk him smelling it on him and possibly send him over the edge. “Castiel.” Called Dean again, firmly, authoritative. Cas paused once more. Dean hoped his scent conveyed his urgency more than his want. “Cas, you’re in a _rut_. You need to get _off_ me.”

Like a switch had been flipped, Cas all but threw himself backwards, toppling over the edge of the bed and onto the rug. For a moment all they heard was each other’s ragged breathing. Pulling himself up to his elbows, Dean eyed the other with veiled concern. He had hit the floor hard. “You okay?” He asked in the dark.

A rustle. “Dean— I am so _sorry_ —”

“You didn’t do anything bad, Cas. I promise you.” Calmed Dean, getting up. The cold air hit his heated skin and he shivered, slightly uncomfortable with the wet feeling between his legs. He really hoped Cas didn’t notice before he could jump into the shower. Throwing open the windows, Dean trusted it would help with the cloying scent of the alpha’s rut. He could see the sun begin to rise beyond the lake. “We’re going to need to talk about this, tho.”

“I can go to a motel. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Dean.”

“You’re not.” And he really wasn’t, but their relationship was new and delicate, and they needed to set down _rules_. “And you don’t need to leave, Cas.” Sitting down on his side of the bed, Dean settled for a long talk. “I can stay in the guest room. I’ll be working most of the day at the garage anyway, so I won’t be around. Unless,” And Dean hesitated, wanting to offer but unsure of how Cas would take it. “I mean, I could help. With your rut.” Castiel’s eyes darkened, knowing exactly what he was proposing. “Couples often do and uh, I could take a few days off for that. It’s allowed by law. It’s only going to be a couple days, tops, anyway.”

“Dean.” Cas closed his eyes, rubbing his temple to try and pacify his thoughts. “I appreciate your proposition.” And he did, he really did. Castiel was grateful Dean felt comfortable enough with him to offer. “But I do not want us to take that step fueled by pheromones or out of some sense of duty, Dean. I want it to come to us naturally.”

Dean nodded, understanding. Still, a petty side of him was disappointed, as he remembered they hadn’t even properly kissed yet. When Cas meant slow, _damn_ , he meant at a glacial pace. However, he refused to press.

Dean was a lot of things, but he would never push Cas.

“Then, how do you want to do this?” The omega asked. “I take the guest room?” Castiel nodded, apologetic. “Okay. Let me just grab a couple things.” Moving swiftly, Dean quickly gathered a few changes of clothes and other essentials. “Since I’m up early, I’ll fix us both some lunch for later, alright? Make sure to eat; you won’t feel very hungry but it’s important that you do.”

“Eat food, drink water. I know.” Castiel recited, nodding. “I’ll try and fix the backyard. Don’t think I’ll be able to pay much attention to the curriculum, today.”

Snorting, Dean had to agree. He paused by the door. “Can I say goodbye?” Softening, Cas nodded, so Dean walked to him and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his tousled hair. “I’ll see you later, Cas.”

Pulling back, Dean saw Castiel nod, eyes darker with want. He had scented Dean’s predicament, but remained seated, tense.

With a swift movement and without another word, Dean left the room and closed the door behind him, making a quick retreat to the bathroom.

“What’s got ya panties in a twist?”

Smacking his head on the chassis of the car above him, Dean let out a few choice cursing words as he rolled out. “Son of a bitch!”

“And of a downright bastard too but that’s neither here nor there, ain’t it?” Drawled Larson sprawled in his chair and stabbing what looked like fruit in a small container. “You’ve been lying there without moving for so long, I could swear you’d taken a nap.”

“Was just thinking.” Dean grumbled, wiping the smear of oil that’d been left behind in his forehead.

“About?”

“What is this, a confessional?”

“What?” Larson stabbed another slice of fruit. “I’m bored.”

“So, get a life, man.”

“Yours is more interesting.” Chewing, the other man narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Trouble in paradise? Renovations giving you a headache?”

“Everything’s fine, you nosy fopdoodle.”

“That nerdy alpha of yours not up to the task?” Dean sputtered, seeing red at the jab. Larson grinned wolfishly. “ _Ah_.”

Brandishing a wrench, Dean quickly did a rundown of how many ways he could kill the other and get away with it. “Let’s draw some lines in the sand, here.” He pointed the tool (weapon?) at the beta. “You’re my boss. I’m your employee. We’re _not_ friends. You don’t know me; you don’t know Cas. Next time you’re a bigot and make a funny at our expense, you’re finding out why I’m on the FBI’s most wanted list.” Dean threatened. “Got it?”

Larson winked obnoxiously. “Got it, partner.”

He thought it was a joke.

Little did he know Dean _was_ on that list.

Dean was stirring up a pot of mac and cheese when Castiel finally returned inside, covered in dirt. “Hiya, Poison Ivy.” He joked, winking. Cas glared tiredly at him. “Done digging up holes? Good day?”

Arms wrapped around his waist from behind before a cold nose pressed to his nape, making Dean curse at the thermal shock. “It was… _busy_.” Castiel mumbled, inhaling deeply.

Seeing Cas’s reddened complexion from the corner of his eye, Dean suppressed a snort of amusement and couldn’t help a little joke at Cas’s expense. “I’ll _bet_.”

“Quiet, you ass.”

“Yes, sir.”

Continuing dinner, Dean allowed the other to lean on him in the meantime. He should be putting some distance between them, he knew, but after he’d arrived home and taken a shower, he’d applied some scent blockers, so they should be good for the most part. He didn’t enjoy it, feeling like he was wearing a thick layer of invisible sunblock all over, but it was a necessity. “You should go shower, Cas.” Dean said when the food was finished, and he turned off the stove.

“Hmm. But you’re warm.”

“And you’re freezing, which is exactly why you should go and take a warm shower before you get sick.”

Castiel nuzzled the other’s nape again and Dean shivered, the alpha’s warm breath tickling the sensitive skin. “Your scent is gone. That is unfortunate.”

“Well, it was either using blockers or avoiding you until you’re through your rut, and I didn’t want to avoid you, so.” A nonchalant shrug.

Pausing, Castiel lifted his head in surprise. “That’s awfully considerate. Thank you.” He said earnestly, catching Dean’s eyes and looking at him like he’d hung the moon.

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed the other away, downplaying it. “Sure, now go shower, buddy. You’re up to your ears in dirt.”

“Dean.” Cas caught his hand and squeezed, gentle. “ _Thank you_.” Repeated the alpha. “You’ve been an amazing partner while I adjust to my new limitations and you should know so— hear me _say_ so. Don’t pretend most people would go through the same lengths as you have to adjust to me.”

There Castiel went, being so embarrassingly _sappy_. “Cas…”

“I mean it. I’m grateful that you accepted my proposal and that you are trying, every day. It was all I could have asked for.”

“Damn it, Cas.” Cursed Dean, squeezing his eyes shut. Cas looked at him like he was trying to burn the words into his soul. “You can’t just come out and say shit like that, man. I dunno how to take it.” He confessed.

Taking pity on him, Castiel let him go. “I’m sorry. It’s the truth, nevertheless. And you deserve to hear it.” Smiling when Dean looked back at him, the angel gave him a soft look. Dean has learned to brace when the other looked at him so. “You think you’re so hard to love when it’s the easiest thing I’ve learned how to do in eons of existence.”

And he said it so casually, too.

Dean kissed him.

Just a small lean forward and their lips were pressed together in a firm, yet gradually softening kiss, as they leaned into each other’s bodies. Soon after, or hours later, they pulled apart, lips sticking together as they looked at each other.

Then the dam broke.

With a guttural growl, Castiel hooked his hands underneath Dean’s tights and picked him up, pinning him against the counter. Flailing in turn, Dean barely missed the hot pot before he latched onto the other with hunger, hands buried deep in Cas’s dark hair as their lips met again, teeth clashing in their haste to get under each other’s skin.

If their first kiss had been sweet, their second was searing.

Somewhere deep in Dean’s mind, he _knew_ he should be stopping them, should be the voice of reason, but then Cas rolled his hips and his dick twitched and _sweet merciful Jesus_ , he was in too deep, too intoxicated as the former angel kneaded his tights, all but fucking his mouth with abandon as he grew slick. If he thought kissing Cas would be an awkward affair, with the other’s lack of experience in the dating department, then he was being thoroughly proven _wrong_ , moaning deep in his throat as Castiel trapped his bottom lip between his teeth and _bit_ _down_ , hard enough to bruise and mark him but not to draw blood.

All too soon, Cas was pulling back with a broken groan, evading Dean’s searching mouth with a pained grimace. “Dean.”

“ _Jesus fuck_.” Dean breathed, growing slicker at just the sound of his name in those sinfully dry lips.

“ _Dean_. We— We _can’t_.”

As if the air had been sucked out of the room, they ceased all motion.

Dropping his head back against the cabinets with a grunt, Dean worked to catch his breath as he stared at the ceiling. Cas was right, he knew, _but_. “In my defense,” He said after a moment, sheepish, loosening his legs from where they were still around Castiel’s waist. “I wasn’t expecting you to jump me after I kissed you. Should have, in hindsight, given the circumstances, but wasn’t.”

“It’s alright. It— It was a very nice kiss.”

Dean lifted his head, pinning Cas down with an unimpressed look.

Nice?

_Nice_.

Unaware, or still too distracted, Castiel took a labored breath. He looked absolutely wrecked, holding on to his self-restraint by a thread. “I think I’ll take that shower now.”

“Yeah.”

And then Cas was leaving, bumping into the door arch on the way out of the kitchen and abandoning Dean on top of the counter.

Castiel breaks out of his rut after some very long four days.

By the time Dean walks out of the guest room in the morning, bleary eyed and hair sticking out in weird places, Cas has already thrown open the windows of the entire house, done the laundry in their room and was _trying_ to scramble eggs, watching them with the intensity of a hawk staring down his prey as they cooked.

Dean is suddenly struck by the realization of how stupidly fond he is of the other.

Wordlessly, Dean padded into the kitchen and snaked his arms around the other’s waist, pressing his nose to Cas’s neck and inhaling deeply. Sweet honey and ozone. Just content. “Welcome back.”

Castiel tilted his head then, adorably confused. “I never left, Dean.”

Chuckling, Dean closed his eyes against the other’s skin. “Yeah, you didn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk: I hadn't written in 7 years before this fic slapped me across the face. I haven't written smut/anything even remotely sexy in much longer than that. As such, let me know how it is, please!  
> Also let me know if you'd rather have me drop a bigger warning or something else if you ever want to skip these scenes, so that I can plan accordingly!


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisa calls.  
> Dean is forced to face the ugly truth.  
> The plot thickens.

They’re both arguing about what plants Cas wants to place in their front yard when Dean’s phone rings.

“We’re not done.” Dean claimed, watching Cas glare in that squinty way of his at the interruption.

“I will have my hydrangeas, Dean.”

“We’ll see about _that_.”

Following the ringtone to the living room, Dean quickly found the device on top of the mantle and under some cuttings of paneling. Not checking the ID, he accepted the call and balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder, cleaning a bit. “Go for Dean.”

_‘Hello?’_

He hesitated at the female voice.

Dropping the trash in a nearby bucket, Dean quickly checked the ID. His blood froze before he put the phone back on his ear. “Lisa?”

There was a pause on the other side. _‘I’m sorry. Is this a bad time?’_

“No, no— Just surprised, is all. Didn’t expect you to call.” Dean frowned. “Are you okay? Ben?”

_‘We’re alright.’_ Lisa was quick to soothe. _‘I just— worried.’_ There was another pause and Dean began to grow restless, confused as to why Lisa would be calling him and then stalling. _‘The last time we spoke, the things you said_ — _You never contacted me again. I thought the worst, Dean.’_

Ah. Shit.

“Yeah, I— I’m sorry, Lisa. I thought about calling,” _Make you part of my life,_ _even_ , but it seemed too much. “but things have been hectic. You’re safe, though.” And Dean made sure to stress it. “You and Ben, they’re not going after you. We solved it. You’re safe.”

Lisa’s smile could be heard in her voice, clear as day. _‘Dean, that— You have no idea how much that reassures me. But I was also worried about_ you _.’_ There was a rustle, before the sound of a door closing. Lisa had to have walked outside, probably for privacy. Ben must be around, Dean considered. Great kid, but nosy. _‘Were you hurt? Did you make it out okay?’_

“Yeah, took a beating but all’s good, now.” Seeing Cas peek out of the kitchen from the corner of his eye, Dean gave him a reassuring nod. The other frowned. “Nothing some ice and a few stitches didn’t fix.”

Lisa sighed, but didn’t press. _‘And Sam?’_

And there it was, wasn’t it?

The million-dollar question.

Dean clenched his jaw, having hoped Lisa wouldn’t ask. How do you explain your brother is stuck in Hell, with the biblical devil, their other half-brother, and an asshole of an archangel? Dean swallowed hard, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Sam didn’t make it.”

_‘—_ Oh. _Oh, Dean. I am so_ sorry _.’_

“Yeah.”

_‘How— I— Dean, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. When did it happen, was it…?’_

“We knew the stakes, Lisa.” Cas was suddenly beside him, placing a reassuring hand on the small of Dean’s back. “But yeah. It was.”

_‘Dean— Are you okay? I mean— Oh, stupid,_ stupid _, question._ ’ There was a soft thud from the other side of the line, as if Lisa had smacked herself. _‘Where are you, I mean? Are you alright, are you alone? Do you need a place to stay? Ben and I, we’d be happy to have you. You know that.’_

Dean knew. “Thanks, Lisa. I know, but I’m— not good.” He admitted, feeling Cas’s thumb begin to rub across his spine, like he could feel the growing anxiety within him. Perhaps, he could smell it. “But I’m getting there.”

Lisa paused. _‘Dean— Whatever you need. I am here. And…’_ She hesitated _. ‘What I said, about my door being open? The offer stands. Truly.’_

Suddenly, Cas’s hand on Dean’s back felt hot. “I— appreciate it, Lisa. I do, but things have changed.”

_‘—Oh.’_

Dean winced. “I’m sorry.”

Lisa was quick to interject. ‘ _No, no! I’m happy for you. Really, I am!’_

“Like I said, things have been hectic. Lots happening—”

_‘Dean.’_ And Lisa could be heard smiling again. _‘It’s all good. I truly_ am _happy for you. I hope it works out.’_

And Dean let out a breath, somehow relieved. He didn’t even know why he cared that she _didn’t_ care. It was just a weight lifted off his shoulders, one that he didn’t even know was there in the first place. “Thanks, Lisa. I appreciate it.”

Watching curiously, Castiel waited while Dean said his goodbyes before asking. “Lisa… Is she your—” And he squinted, visibly searching for the correct term to use. When he lifted his free hand, Dean knew, with no small amount of exasperation and fondness, he’d be using quotation marks. “Old flame?”

“Ahh, geez, Cas.” Castiel shrugged, not understanding Dean’s consternation. “Yeah, once upon a time. She had a changeling problem a while back—”

“ _Ah_. Yes. The yoga instructor, with the young boy you thought was your son.” Dean stared. Castiel fidgeted. Dean narrowed his eyes. Cas finally broke, ears reddening. “You were my charge. I said I’d watch over you.” Another shrug. “I _did_.”

“… You snooped.”

“I did not _snoop_. I _observed_.”

“Yeah. Snoop.”

“Angels of the Lord do not _snoop_ , it’s undignified.”

“And yet!”

Huffing, Cas gently steered Dean away from the fireplace and back towards the kitchen. “What is it that she wanted?” Asked the alpha, rolling his eyes under Dean’s pointed look. “Not _snooping_ ; I am just _curious_ , Dean.”

Relenting, Dean allowed the other to pull him along, no doubt wanting to go back to his gardening discussion. “Before the battle at Stull, I visited her.” The mood grew somber. “Wanted to make sure she and Ben would be okay. Guess I said some scary crap and she worried cos I never reached out again.”

“Understandable.” Said Cas, detaching himself from Dean to pour them both some coffee. Ignoring Dean’s offended look, he poured an unholy amount of creamer and sugar into his own and began to stir. “And I believe she has presented me with an opportunity that I fully intend to take.” Softening like only he could, Castiel scooted forward and watched the other carefully. “I noticed you haven’t mentioned Sam, much. I’d like to discuss why.” Dean tensed. “I’d like to remind you that he’s still a part of your life, Dean. He shouldn’t be taboo just because he’s—”

“Not dead.” Dean interrupted, gripping the mug tightly between his hands. “So, don’t— He’s _not_ dead, Cas.”

While sympathetic, Castiel didn’t try and soften his blow. “Dean, Sam is locked up in the Cage. Unless someone very powerful decides to pull him out, he’s there for eternity. He might as well be.” And if looks could kill, Cas would be a very thinly grounded, crispy pile of ashes under Dean’s furious glare. Still, he pressed on. “I understand you might not want to hear it—”

“And you’d be right, Cas, I _don’t_.”

“But it needed to be said.” Putting his mug down, Cas reached and gently pried Dean’s own mug out of his tight fists. He was grateful when Dean let him lift a hand to his mouth and allowed him to kiss the white knuckles, rather than sock him in the face. “What I mean to convey is, we can face it together, Dean. Sam can be a part of our lives, even if he isn’t physically among us. He was my friend, too.” Castiel searched the other’s face, seeing confusion bubble up from under the anger. “We could put up photos. Some of his belongings. Keep his memory alive.”

And Dean's composure began to crumble, hurt starting to replace the fury.

Castiel was right.

Dean _knew_ he was right.

But to pretend Sam had just gone somewhere, to do his own thing, was so much easier to deal with. Dean _could_ deal with abandonment, he had before, so his brain defaulted to pretending Sam was just _away_. Back at Stanford, doing whatever.

Death was a completely different behemoth.

And Sam was, wasn’t he?

Dead.

Dean promised he wouldn’t make any deals or try anything to get him out of the cage, so he basically _was_ dead. If not physically, then in all the other ways that mattered. He was not getting out.

There would be no amount of waiting, no pretending long enough that could change that.

It hits Dean harder than he expected, the realization.

For a beat, Dean wishes he hadn’t picked up Lisa’s call, hadn’t opened the pathway for Cas to demolish his delusions. Wishes he still had his mug in hand, so he could hurl it and see it smash against the newly tiled wall. _Anything_.

Dean contents himself with prying his hand off the other’s, closing off.

Castiel lets him but not without a regretful frown. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed, he thinks. Still, he started it. Might as well finish it. “We can visit.” He said, softly, like he was afraid to spook the other. “I believe it’s customary to leave flowers at the resting place of the deceased during meaningful times of the year. We could bring Sam something for the two-month anniversary of his parting. At Stull.”

“ _Two-month_ — It’s barely been a month, Cas. What the hell?”

Castiel paused, searching Dean’s face. He must have found something, or the absence of it, because he deflated, looking oh so sad. Dean felt his blood boil at the pity. “Dean—”

“Don’t _fucking_ look at me like that—”

“It’s October 15th. Sam jumped into the cage on September 7th.”

Blood thumping in his ears, Dean shoved the other aside and looked at the little magnet calendar on the fridge, a stupid thing, bright yellow and covered in bumblebees that Dean had found at a thrift store and thought it reminded him of Cas.

There, in bold letters. October 15th, 2010.

Well over a month since Sam—

Dean choked, hyperventilating.

He missed the _date_.

He _forgot_ about his little brother.

Sam had jumped into a hole in the ground, condemning himself to eternal damnation, just so that Dean could go and fail his promise to him the very next week, then completely forget about him as he played house with their best friend.

Like Sam didn’t even _matter_.

Like he hadn’t been the focus of Dean’s life since he’d pulled him out of a burning room, twice, aged four and twenty-six, respectively.

“Dean, _please_ —”

And Dean was running, shoving off him the frantic hands on his shoulders.

Forgoing shoes but grabbing his keys, he was in the Impala and squealing down the road before he knew it, ignoring Cas yelling after him in the middle of the road as he drove away.

Castiel was, to put it mildly, going insane with _worry_.

He wasn’t a stranger to it, but it _was_ the first time he felt it so intensely and it was driving him _mad_ : his throat was tight, he couldn’t stop moving, he’d taken to biting his nails— Cas bristled at his weakness.

Not for the first time since it happened, Castiel hoped with his entire being that he still had his grace.

With the warding in his ribs, Dean would be invisible to him, he knew, but he’d _know too_ , somehow, that he was _okay_.

He didn’t know that, now.

And it had been _hours_ since Dean had left.

Three hours, seventeen minutes, and fifty-nine seconds, more precisely.

Castiel had considered calling, but Dean had put his phone down back at the mantle and didn’t take it with him when he ran off. He thought about calling the police instead, but it hadn’t been too long for Dean to be considered a missing person, and Dean _was_ a person of interest to the authorities, so Cas probably shouldn’t alert them to his presence in Bloomington, right?

Unless absolutely necessary, that is.

He could also go out and search, but Cas had no idea where Dean could have gone and what if he returned and Cas wasn’t there? Worse, what if Dean had drove away and tried to disappear? Cas wouldn’t _ever_ find him, then. Dean knew most roads in the US like the back of his hand: if he wanted to be gone, he’d be, and Cas would never know.

The doorbell rang.

Like a switch had been flipped, Cas stopped digging a hole on the wooden floor of the living room and stalked to the front door, ready to give whoever was on the other side a scathing send-off and then go back to pacing. While he appreciated the kindness of their fellow neighbors, Cas was not in the state of mind to care about meatloaf and freshly baked cookies and welcome-to-the-neighborhood speeches.

With a forceful swing, the door was open, and the words got stuck in Cas’s throat, seeing Bobby there with a small duffel and amusement in his face as he stared down at their doormat.

“Let me guess.” And then Bobby trailed off, amusement evaporating at the cheer panic in Cas’s face. “Tell me.” He ordered, letting the other pull him inside and out of the rain.

“Dean’s gone.”

Dean couldn’t breathe.

He was out of the house and into the car and his socks were wet and he was driving too fast and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

There was once the open road and the darkening skies and then rain.

Dean kept seeing his brother’s face in his head and how he’d closed his eyes tightly before jumping into the pit and then there was a large mass and trees and now, _he couldn’t breathe_.

There was blood in his mouth.

Splattering against the dashboard, down his chin.

And Dean didn’t breathe.

In the rain, blue eyes narrowed in annoyance, and a hand lifted.

Chuck snapped his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Author's Note:**

> It has been YEARS since I've last written anything, so pardon my dust, y'all.  
> That series finale, tho. That ending killed my crops and pissed on my cat and managed to drag me out of my SPN coma of oh so many years to fill me with spite and inspiration to write this.  
> Buckle up, people.  
> I know I am.


End file.
